


Dean's Dreams...Dean's Reality...

by horrorgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Childhood Memories, Confusion, Fear, Fluff, Healing, Healing Sex, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Memories, Self-Hatred, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorgirl/pseuds/horrorgirl
Summary: After the nightmares had diminished, Dean Winchester stopped remembering what he dreamt about. But what starts as an unconscious visitation into his past turns into something convoluted, frightening, and eye opening. He knows that good or bad, he will never be the same.





	Dean's Dreams...Dean's Reality...

**Author's Note:**

> Most of what I've been writing lately tends to lean more towards AU. I found this as a rough draft and thought that I'd finish it. I hope you enjoy.

Everybody has dreams, and he knew that he was no different. But he didn’t usually remember the details of his, he tried not to. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, still able to clearly make out the images that had run through his mind, almost like a movie reel. They were memories, really. Places, experiences, people. Flashing still shots and short snippets of fights and battles, quiet moments, even the rare times when he was able to relax and laugh. 

He stood up and threw on his bathrobe. He could already smell the coffee brewing, which meant that his brother was awake. He walked down the long hallway to take a hot shower.

\-------------------------

“Hey Sammy,” he smiled while reaching for a mug. “What kind of boring shit do you have going on today?”

“Uh well, since you asked so nicely, I got a call about some strange deaths and I’m pulling up some news articles.”

“Strange deaths,” Dean mumbled. “Not the most interesting way to start a conversation considering that our entire lives have been about strange deaths, but I’ll humor you and ask. Whatcha got?”

“Three deaths, all male, all in their 40’s. First guy took an antique revolver out of his collection and stuck it in his mouth. The second guy sealed up his garage and sat in his car while it was running.”

“Let me guess, the third guy went with the do it yourself edition too?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Dean shrugged, sitting down with his coffee. “What do they have in common?”

“They belonged to the same country club.”

“So chances are, three uppity rich guys pissed off a witch.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Sam sighed before he pushed himself away from the table and stood up to refill his mug.

“You know what I really hate about witches?”

“Um, that they’re usually evil and have this thing with torturing or killing for their own benefit?”

“Besides that,” Dean scowled, wondering if there were still any donuts left over from yesterday. He knew that they’d be stale, but he didn’t really care. “I hate that they’re actually human.”

“Dean, most of the shit we go after was human at one point or another. Even demons.”

“Right,” Dean said, holding up a day old donut before taking a bite. “But witches are like ‘human’ human.”

“Meaning?”

“Unless they’re working with a demon, which we both know that most of them don’t, they use spells. They have no actual power. And the bitches are hard to take down.”

“Dude, are you seriously eating that thing?”

“What?” Dean asked innocently with his mouth full.

“You bought those yesterday.”

“There is nothing wrong with day old donuts, Sammy. You just have to chew them a little longer.”

“Whatever. So anyway, what do you think?”

“About witches or day old donuts?”

“Do you go out of your way to be obnoxious?”

“Nope,” Dean grinned. “It just comes naturally. If you want to check out this witch thing, then let’s go check it out. It’s not like we have anything else going on.”

Sam closed his computer and glared at his brother’s feet that were propped up on the table. Dean may be four years older, but he didn’t exactly act like it. “We might as well pack up and get going now.”

“Ugh,” Dean muttered, swallowing the last of his stale donut and finishing his coffee.

\-------------------------

Dean always took a moment to look down at the large open rooms of the bunker from the top of the spiral staircase before he lifted his bag on his shoulder and opened the heavy door. As strange as the surroundings may seem, it was the only place that he and his brother had ever been able to call home.

\-------------------------

He dreamt again, laying on a sagging mattress in a no-tell motel somewhere outside of Tulsa, Oklahoma. This time it was his childhood. 

_He was holding six month old Sam in the cold Kansas night watching firefighters and police officers dragging his father away from their burning home. He could hear his father screaming, “Mary…” but his four year old mind couldn’t understand why. He was too lost, too cold to feel afraid. They got in the car and left Kansas for good, and that’s when he knew. He knew that he would never hear that laughter, see that smile, or smell the apple shampoo again. His mother was lost to him forever. He saw a flickering slideshow of himself at different ages in motel rooms almost identical to the one that he was laying in now. His education in monsters, creatures, all things supernatural was a blur. He had vague memories of lessons about werewolves, djinn, and shapeshifters. He’d learned how to use salt, silver, and iron. He’d watched his first kill when he was still a child. There were flashes of greasy diners and small towns that all ran together while he sat in the passenger seat of his father’s 1967 Chevy Impala, turning around every few minutes to check on Sam. He saw schools, too many schools to remember, but they never stayed in one place long enough for him to have any real memories of friends. He could hear his father’s deep voice telling him that by hunting things they were saving people. He could hear that voice telling him that it was his job to keep Sam safe. He could hear his own voice simply say "yes sir", forcing himself to keep it from quivering when he spoke._

This time he woke up confused. The motel room was so familiar. He’d stayed in the same room hundreds of times in hundreds of towns. But now, he was in his 30’s, his father was gone, and he still felt the inherent need to keep his brother safe.

\-------------------------

“So other than these guys having too much money and a token trophy wife, I can’t see any reason why somebody would want them dead.”

“I don’t know. Maybe they shared a mistress? A business or investment deal? There is something that connects them,” Sam shrugged as they walked up to the front door of the large home and rang the bell.

“Mrs. Peterson?” Dean asked, pulling the fake badge out of the inside pocket of his ‘FBI suit’, “I’m Special Agent Crosby, this is Special Agent Stills. We just wanted to ask you a few questions about your husband.” He could tell that her plastic surgery alone must have cost at least $60,000 or $70,000 when she nodded and opened the door wide to let them into the house.

“My husband’s death was ruled a suicide,” the woman sniffled. “Why would the FBI be interested?”

“Uh, we’re investigating investment fraud and your husband’s name just happened to show up in the file. I understand that the timing is bad, we are sorry for your loss,” Sam said gently.

“Investment fraud? But Jim owned a chain of restaurants, why would he be under investigation for investment fraud?”

“We’re not saying that your husband was involved in any illegal activity, we are actually trying to rule that out. We just need to take a look at his financial records. It’s standard procedure,” Dean said, watching the mascara run down her cheeks before he reached for a tissue to hand to her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and led them to her husband’s office.

\-------------------------

“I’m not seeing anything. Just your typical rich guy with a plastic wife and a couple of kids he shipped off to boarding school as soon as they were old enough. He looks like he’s on the up and up.”

“Okay, but check this out,” Sam said without turning around. “I pulled up his financials on his computer and his numbers don’t match up. His personal records show a much higher net worth than his tax returns. This guy wasn’t on the up and up. He kept a ledger. No names, just initials.”

“Do any of them match our other do-it-yourselfers?”

“Yeah, both of them.”

“Aw, would you look at this?” Dean smirked, holding up the small burlap package that had been tied closed with a string.

“A hex bag,” Sam shook his head. “I guess that answers one question.”

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “Let’s figure out who else is on that list. We’re either going to find more victims to be, or we’re going to find our witch.” He watched his brother print off some records and slide them into his pocket. They thanked the grieving widow solemnly and offered their condolences before climbing into the same 1967 Impala that they had been raised in. “I’m guessing we get a list of country club members and match up the initials?”

“It’s our best bet.”

\-------------------------

Sam averted his eyes and tried not to laugh when Dean perched on the edge of the reception desk at the country club. All Dean had to do was smile and wink. Sam didn’t know how, but it worked every time. They didn’t need to give an explanation or pull out their badges. They got their list, and Dean got a phone number.

\-------------------------

_He wasn’t a child. He was in his 20’s, his early 20’s. He was leaning against the wall watching his 18 year old brother fight with their father. A part of him, the part that needed to protect Sam, wanted to get in between them, to intervene, but he knew better. By the end of the night, Sam would have his bag packed and he would be headed to California. Their father would become angry and resentful. He would stay silent and ignored until his father left the motel to drink, not bothering to look at his oldest son, much less ask him to come along. He remembered crawling into bed that night knowing that by letting Sam leave, he was protecting him. He saw a constant stream of the many times that he picked up the phone to call Sam at Stanford, but hung up before he could finish dialing the number. He heard Sam’s voice the few times that they did talk, how different it was, how distant it was. He remembered the day that he woke up and realized that Dean Winchester was nothing more than a young caricature of John Winchester. His path had been decided for him that cold Kansas night, and there wasn’t a damn thing that he could do about it. He could feel his humanity pulling away inside of him._

\-------------------------

“So we have three more names,” Dean yawned. “Which means that we either have three potential victims with a nameless witch or warlock or whatever. Or we have two potential victims and a witch or warlock with a name.”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” Sam said, watching his brother eat breakfast, cringing at his lack of table manners.

“So, what now? There’s really no point behind checking out our two other vic’s. Do we pick a name and play I spy?”

“We can split up and each keep an eye on one of them, which leaves a third to either take himself out, or set up a spell. Or, we can try to get Cas to help. Three bodies to cover three possible victims or witches. That’s if it really is one of these guys pulling the strings.”

“Dude, we haven’t heard from Cas in weeks.”

“Well, you said his name so I’m guessing that he’ll show up any time.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s better than Bloody Mary,” Sam chuckled. “You only have to say it once.”

“Well, I said it and he didn’t magically appear so I say that we each take a name and hope that we get it right.”

“He didn’t magically appear, but the day’s not over,” Sam was still laughing.

“Are you done eating? I’d like to get back to the room, come up with a plan, and try to get in a nap if we’re going to be on rich asshole watch all night.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Sam smiled. 

His smile turned into an outburst of laughter that drowned out Dean’s groan when they pulled up at the motel and saw the figure standing outside of their room. “I told you.” 

“Yeah, college boy, let’s just get inside and figure this shit out.”

“Hello Sam, Dean,” the gravely voice traveled quietly as they shut the car doors and Dean reached into his pocket for the room key.

“Hey Cas,” Sam smiled. “We haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“Technically, Sam, when you look at things on the larger scale, not that much time has passed…”

“Yeah, yeah, we know. Time works differently for us and all of that shit,” Dean said irritably, unlocking the door and walking in first. He flopped down on his bed and threw his arm over his eyes.

“Is something wrong with him?” Cas whispered.

“Where do I start? He’s just annoyed because I was right.”

“About what?”

“You know that I can hear you, right?” Dean called.

“Listen, you have perfect timing. We need to do a stakeout, but we have three potential victims and two Winchesters,” Sam said quietly, biting back his laughter.

“You need my help?” Cas looked confused.

“Well, yeah if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind. What do I need to do?”

“Uh, basically watch some guy to make sure that he doesn’t try to off himself or pull any witchy shit,” Sam shrugged.

“That’s all?”

“Yeah, it’s like hunting 101. We’re pretty sure that we have a witch on our hands. We already have three dead bodies. There are three alive that we think might be part of some shady business deal. We either have three possible victims, or two victims and the guy who’s pulling the strings. If you see anything crazy, just call.”

\-------------------------

“I don’t know about you, Sam, but I’ve got a guy laying a black cloth over his coffee table and pulling a brass bowl out of a cabinet. I’m pretty sure that I’ve got our witch or warlock or whatever. Are you going to head over here or do I need to do this one myself?” Dean growled quietly into his phone. “Okay, you have the address so hurry.” He hung up and turned around, almost knocking Cas to the ground. “I’m guessing that you got the message.”

“You left a message?”

“No Cas,” Dean sighed impatiently. “That whole creepy knowing how to find me thing that you do. I’m guessing that your spidey senses were tingling and that’s why you’re here.”

“I did sense that you could use some help.”

“Okay, good enough. Sam’s on his way, but if this asshole gets too close to finishing his spell, we’re going to have to knock down the door without him.” Dean walked through the dark, avoiding security cameras, until he was on the front porch with his body pressed against the wall, watching through the window. “Shit, I can’t wait for Sam. I have to do this now.” He tried the knob, but the door was locked. True to his word, he kicked in the door sufficiently scaring the man sitting on the couch, surrounded by ingredients for a spell with a book lying open on his lap. Dean held his gun out and started asking questions.

\-------------------------

“Finally the fucking calvary shows up,” Dean shot a sideways glance at Sam as he rushed into the house. “Can you believe that they can just get all of this shit off of the internet? It’s one thing when somebody is trying to empty your wallet with bogus crap, but legit spells?”

The man sat motionless on his couch, his eyes moving from the two menacing strangers holding guns to the quiet one in the trenchcoat standing in the corner. Dean gave the usual speech. Three men were dead because of him and he had no business messing with this shit. They got a tearful blabbering excuse, but Dean didn’t bother to listen. He kept using the word ‘murder’ without letting on that there wasn’t really a damn thing that they could do to stop him. When they finally knew that he was sufficiently terrified of them, they destroyed everything that he had been using for the spells and hex bags. Dean gave him a disgusted look and let him know that if they had to come back, things would not end well for him. They slowly walked out of the house and back to the car, waiting for Cas to slide in the backseat.

“I told you that I hate this fucking witch bullshit,” Dean muttered, starting the engine. “Some rich asshole just wants to get richer and starts knocking off his friends until we show up and make him almost piss his pants.”

“Dean, I’m pretty sure he’s scared enough that he’s going to stop.”

“I still wouldn’t mind shooting him. I don’t mean killing him, just through the leg or something.”

“And that’s going to bring those guys back?”

“No, but it will make me feel better.”

“As long as Dean gets his way,” Sam chuckled. They both knew that it was never about Dean getting his way. Sam tried to be his moral compass, and for the most part if Sam asked him not to shoot, he didn’t shoot.

They got back to the motel and Dean grabbed the bottle of scotch out of his bag. He looked at Sam, who shrugged and reached for a cheap plastic cup. Dean didn’t bother to offer any to Cas. They knew it was better if Cas didn’t drink.

“So what have you been up to?” Sam asked, dropping into a chair.

“I’m caught somewhere between restoring order and clearing my name.”

“How’s that working out for you?” Dean called from where he was laying on the bed.

“Not well. It is still chaos and most of them don’t trust me.”

“Well Cas, just give it time. Every time you come here kind of fucks up your chances of clearing your name, you do know that.”

“Yes Dean, I do. But you know that I…”

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly, sitting up to finish off his drink. He waited for Sam to hand him the bottle so that he could pour another. “But none of our bullshit is worth it.”

\-------------------------

 _It was cold, but he barely felt the chill when he watched the man drive a blade into his brother’s back. The world slowed when he ran and caught Sam before he fell to the ground. His jacket was warm with blood. There was so much blood. Dean could feel it between his fingers as he tried to cover the wound and convince Sam that everything was going to be okay. The words were as much for his benefit as they were for his brother, but time stopped when Sam died in his arms. It was dark as he knelt in the dirt and held his brother’s lifeless body. He had failed. The one thing, the only thing that he was supposed to do was to protect his baby brother. He stood over Sam’s prone body on a sagging mattress and slowly watched his skin beging to mottle. Everything was blurry, it was white noise. It wasn’t Sam’s time, and he knew it. His own soul didn’t mean anything, he felt like it didn’t exist when he traded it for Sam’s life. The kiss to seal the deal with the crossroads demon was the sweetest and most bitter that he had ever experienced. It ended with the promise that in one year, Hell would own him. He needed to protect Sam, he needed Sam to live. He hated the guilt that he saw in his brother’s eyes during that year. The pain of impending loss and loneliness. He never really believed that the Hellhounds would come for him until he felt the claws and teeth rip into his flesh. The most painful memory he had of that night were Sam’s cries. Sam watched him become a lifeless body, just as he had watched Sam._

He could feel that he was tossing and turning, sweat beading along his hairline as the thin motel sheets twisted around him. His time in Hell, it was real and it was imprinted in a way that no other memory would match. He begged for the release of waking up. He couldn’t live with the things that he heard, that he saw, that he did. 

His throat was closing when finally he gasped and sat up, panting heavily. He turned and watched Sam sleeping in the other bed. Sam was alive and he was back in the realm of humanity. He sat against the headboard with the open bottle of scotch in his hand, refusing to let himself fall asleep again.

\-------------------------

“Are you even listening to me?”

“What? Were you talking?”

“You’re a dick,” Sam sighed.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just tired. What were you saying?”

“I was talking about what you said yesterday, how easy it is to get shit like that on the internet.”

“You’re right Sam. The internet should be used for good instead of evil. Like that boring shit that you’re always doing. And porn, we can’t forget porn,” Dean grinned, looking at his brother in the passenger seat. 

“At least you have your priorities straight,” Sam mumbled.

“No, you’re right. Without the internet you would have to find something else to sit and stare at all day. Do you think that he just sat down one day and googled ‘how to kill from the luxury of my own home’? I’d love to see his search history.”

“It couldn’t be any worse than yours,” Sam chuckled. “I mean tap dancing rotties? Really?”

“What? I was bored.”

“So you were searching for tap dancing dogs.”

“Well, it’s not exactly what I meant to search for, but now I do know that chihuahuas are much better dancers than rottweilers.” 

“That’s noteworthy.”

“Really Sam, you should see it. They put these little sombreros on them. It’s pretty cute.”

“How much did you have to drink that night?”

“Enough that I ended up watching dogs dance for three hours.”

Sam just shook his head and smiled.

\-------------------------

_It was dark, and still, and silent. He thought that it was somehow another extension of Hell when he reached out and felt the rough wood above him. He didn’t know why he had a lighter in his pocket, but he did. The dim light that it threw burned his eyes, but he fought to keep them open as he pushed with his free hand. The earthy smell hit him before the dirt slid between the boards. It was like a nightmare or late night horror film when the protagonist is buried alive. He used every bit of strength he could muster in his hands, his shoulders, his feet, and somehow dug himself out of an earthen grave. His mind told him that it had been forty years since he’d felt the sunlight. He was stunned when he looked at his face in the mirror and saw that he hadn’t really changed. He was distracted by the bubbling scar in the shape of a handprint on his shoulder. The look on his Uncle Bobby’s face, the look on Sam’s face, the confusion when he realized that only four months had lapsed all became a dizzying whirlpool until he found himself standing in a shed. The light bulbs burst as the familiar figure in a tan trenchcoat walked towards him, unaffected by gunshots or a knife. He would never forget the shade of blue in those eyes when he came face to face with Castiel, the one who had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, an angel of the lord. That was the first, and only time that he’d seen Cas’s large black wings spanned out. That was one of the few times that Dean Winchester was rendered absolutely speechless._

\-------------------------

70% of the reason he propped his feet on the table was for comfort, 30% was to annoy his brother. He picked his coffee cup off of the table when Sam sat down across from him. “Isn’t it a little early for that?” Sam nodded at the laptop resting ironically on Dean’s lap.

“I’m reading the news.”

“Yeah, right,” Sam mumbled.

“You may think that I’m a shallow ape with bad table manners, but I’m a shallow ape who does know how to read," Dean smiled, setting the computer on the table and turning it towards his brother. He dropped his feet to the floor and walked out of the room to refill his mug. 

“Huh, CNN. I guess I was wrong,” Sam watched his brother come back into the room.

“Here’s the thing,” Dean said, sitting down and propping his feet back on the table. “Sometimes it’s nice to know that there’s a life outside of this bullshit. Unfortunately when I read this shit it just depresses me. We may fight with monsters and demons, but humans are a lot fucking scarier.”

“That was almost profound, Dean.”

“Yeah, well I’m either a deep thinker, or I heard it on TV. Either way, the shit’s true. Give me a djinn over a politician any day. At least I know what the djinn’s intentions are.”

\-------------------------

Dean was sitting on the metal cooler wiping his hands with a shop rag when he heard the bunker door open. “What’s up Sammy?” he called.

“You took the last of the beer,” Sam signaled for him to stand up. He garnered a glare when he grabbed a cold bottle and closed the lid, taking Dean’s seat on top of it. “Oil change?”

“Yeah, she was past due. I thought I heard a knocking sound about an hour outside of Tulsa. I’m trying to figure out what in the hell it might be.”

“I don’t know how you can hear anything when you blast your music so loud.”

“I know my baby. I’m hoping,” Dean grunted, closing the hood, “that the oil change was enough. I’m going to drive into town, see if I can hear it again. Do you want me to grab anything?”

“Uh, food would be nice.”

“So fucking needy, Sam. What do you want?”

“I don’t really care. I need to get back in there. I found a couple of articles about…”

“Yeah, strange deaths. Of course you did,” Dean rolled his eyes. “When I write my autobiography, that’s what I’m going to name it.”

“You? An autobiography?”

“Yeah, not only can this shallow ape read, he can also write.”

Sam laughed, “That’s not what I meant. I mean do you really think that somebody would read about the life and times of Dean Winchester?”

“Maybe, but they’d have to put it in the fiction section. Nobody would believe a word of it. Now get off my damn cooler so I can put it back in the car.”

\-------------------------

 _They were again flashes, still shots and snippets of fights and battles. Those quiet moments when he felt like he could breathe. Rare laughter and jokes. But he was watching it from a distance, he was watching it happen to him through someone else’s conscious. He felt something that he couldn’t describe. If pressed, he would use words like confusion, adoration, and guilt. He’d never realized how green his eyes were, until he was locked on them. Locations and times, all different when he felt the need to reach out while his back was turned. It was something akin to sadness that passed through him quickly when he watched himself walk away. He saw through the thin facade of normalcy that he carried to cover the burden of self doubt. All of those nights laying in bed or sitting at the table with a glass in his hand, silently questioning himself, needing to sleep or drink away the constant dull ache. He was more exposed than he had been earlier that day in the shower. This was a form of nudity that he couldn’t cover with a bathrobe or strategically placed towel. How was it possible to feel such a strong need to comfort himself when he saw, and felt, the tears that were quickly wiped away as a sign of weakness?_

He woke up with the tears still sliding out of the corners of his eyes. He didn’t bother to wipe them away, he just stared at the ceiling with his hands clasped behind his head.

\-------------------------

“There doesn’t seem to be a motive for any of these. There is absolutely no rhyme or reason. It’s totally random.”

“Yeah, well random means that it’s probably not our type of thing.”

“It’s almost too random, Dean.”

Dean looked over his brother’s shoulder at the computer screen. The pinpoints on the map, the multiple articles and obituaries. “How did you even find all of this shit anyway? If none of them are connected how would it show up on the radar?”

“Because none of them were just your run of the mill death. In every single one of these articles it says that the deceased exhibited some strange behavior right before they died.”

“So you’re thinking demons,” Dean sighed as he sat down slowly.

“I don’t know what else it could be.”

“But I thought we all agreed to play nice for the time being.”

“Rogue group? Debt collection maybe?”

“Either way, not our problem. If it’s a rogue group, and you were able to catch on to them, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that their friends and family downstairs also know. I say we let them deal with rounding up the runaways. We both know that if we get involved, there’s a chance that all hell will break loose, literally. If it’s debt collection, then it’s debt collection. We know from experience that we can’t stop that from happening.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sam, when have demons ever made sense?”

“Maybe we should call Cas. Maybe he knows something.”

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, “I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t know anything. You heard him, it’s still chaos up there and nobody fucking trusts him. He doesn’t exactly have the inside track these days.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Yes Sam, it would. You know that he is under a microscope and every time he comes down here, it sets him back. They don’t like us and I’m not exactly ready to step up as the president of some angelic fan club. He’s caught in the middle and I don’t think that placing a call for some intel that he probably doesn’t even have is a good idea.”

“Well then what are we supposed to do?”

“Keep an eye on it. If the problem gets bigger, then we’ll figure something out. I don’t like the idea of those assholes roaming the earth any more than you do, but there really isn’t anything that we can do about it right now.”

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye on it. How about a possible malevolent spirit?”

“How far away?”

“Wyoming.”

“Meh, why not,” Dean shrugged. “We could get there in a day and it’s been awhile since we snuck into a cemetery and dug a six foot hole.”

“We live seriously fucked up lives,” Sam chuckled.

Dean was already up and halfway across the room before he turned to look at his brother, “Don’t tell me that you are just now figuring that out.”

\-------------------------

Dean was yawning, Sam dozing lightly in the passenger seat when they pulled up to the motel. Dean purposely slammed the door a little harder than normal to jar his brother awake while he went into the office to pay for a room. 

\-------------------------

“I really don’t get why these places call themselves inns. Who do they think they’re kidding?” Dean babbled, claiming the bed farthest from the door by dropping his bag on it.

“Are these the type of thoughts that keep you up at night?” Sam yawned.

“No, it’s the principle. It’s like false advertising.”

“Since when did you care about principle?”

“I don’t.”

“I hope this isn’t the type of shit you plan to put in your autobiography,” Sam smiled.

“Shut up, Sam.”

\-------------------------

 _The scene played out in front of him while he watched. He was bleeding from a split somewhere along his hairline and breathing heavily, but it was over. They did what they came to do. He watched himself nod at his companions, as if to assure himself that everybody was okay, before turning around. He saw the tan trenchcoat move and Cas’s hand start to slowly reach before dropping at his side. Cas’s eyes held something. Fear, relief, maybe both. It wasn’t until he’d walked a few feet that Cas started to follow, almost aligning the rhythm of their steps. A thick fog seeped in as he watched Cas’s retreating back behind his own, and he could hear the gravely voice:_

_“Hello Dean.”_

_“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”_

_“I rebelled. I did it, I did all of it for you.”_

_“I see nothing but pain here. I see inside of you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion.”_

_“Dean, I do everything that you ask. I always come when you call.”_

_“Hello Dean.”_

_“Hello Dean.”_

_“Hello Dean.”_

_It was an unrelenting echo that became almost palpable as it swirled around him. Glimpses of rolling blue waves in alternating shades of longing, empathy, and loneliness surrounding the dark outline of a figure draped in a trenchcoat, standing in a defeated pose._

\-------------------------

Sam looked over the top of his computer screen and watched his brother rub his forehead distractedly while he ate his greasy diner breakfast. The mannerism was so reminiscent of their father that sometimes he just stared until Dean inevitably turned his eyes and gave him a look that silently said, “What?”. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What have we got? I get the malevolent spirit part, what’s the backstory?”

“Abandoned factory, so of course kids hang out there. A couple of weeks ago one of them fell from the catwalk, died instantly. I’m guessing if we talk to his friends they may not be so quick to write it off as an accident”

“And you’re saying this because…”

“About 40 years ago a foreman fell to his death, same spot.”

“So why not just hit the cemetery, salt and burn the bones, and head home?”

“Because we don’t know for sure that it was him.”

“Teenagers are not going to be impressed by FBI suits,” Dean said wryly, taking a sip of coffee.

“Right. But maybe they will talk to a couple of guys who are the admins for a website about urban legends.”

“Okay, but you’re the computer nerd, so you get to do most of the talking.”

\-------------------------

“Lucas was just fucking around, ya know? He climbed up there to impress Sophie, and then next thing we knew he was on the ground.”

“Did you see anything before Lucas fell?” Sam asked intently while Dean tried to look interested.

“Well…”

“It’s okay Zach, we’re not the cops. We know about Mr. Bowers, about the urban legend.”

“How do you know about Mr. Bowers?”

“It’s our job,” Dean put his elbows on the coffee shop table and leaned forward. “We heard that the guy was a real prick and he may have been ‘helped’ off of that catwalk by a co-worker.”

Zach looked around and lowered his voice, “there was a figure. We all saw it move up behind Lucas. We were all yelling at him to turn around or come back down, but then he just kind of flew forward, broke the railing, and fell. He wasn’t touching the railing before he fell. He wasn’t leaning on it or anything. Something pushed him against it. I just stared up there after Lucas fell and I swear to god it was Mr. Bowers. He was just standing there looking at me.”

“And all of your friends saw the same figure?”

“Yeah, but we knew that nobody would believe us if we said anything. We were already in deep shit for being there in the first place.”

“Okay,” Sam smiled as he stood up. “We’ll add this information to our database. Thanks for your help.”

“And sorry about your friend, man,” Dean added. Zach just nodded silently and wrapped his hands around the warm cardboard cup in front of him before he dropped his head.

\-------------------------

“Well, that’s one 17 year old kid who’s going to be scarred for life. So what about this Bowers guys? Wife? Kids?”

“No,” Sam answered, sliding into the passenger seat of the car. “Life long bachelor.”

“So who buried him?”

“The company who owned the factory.”

“Cover up?”

“Don’t care. We still have a few hours until it’ll be dark. We might as well head over to the factory and take a look around.”

“Alright,” Dean started the engine. “Old abandoned factory here we come.”

\-------------------------

The brothers walked together with flashlights, shining them on concrete walls covered in graffiti and empty beer cans that littered the floor. They climbed to the catwalk and although the steel railing was pock marked with rust, it was sturdy enough that an average 17 year old couldn’t have snapped it with just his own body weight. They hadn’t brought the shotgun with them, they knew that the sound of firing off salt filled shells may draw attention. While they were a couple of miles outside of town, they were only about a hundred yards from the highway. They each held an iron fire poker and saw the figure coming at them. It wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last that they took turns swinging it while they scrambled down the ladder and jogged back to the car.

“Ready to salt and burn?” Sam panted softly.

“I don’t mind the salting and burning. It’s the digging that fucking sucks. Do you know where he’s buried?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s get this done,” Dean groaned, climbing in the car and starting the engine. Sometimes he felt like he was getting too old for this shit.

\-------------------------

“If you’re going to have the balls to call yourself an inn, the least you could do is install a decent fucking hot water heater. There is only one reason a man should take a cold shower, and digging up a grave is not it.”

“Maybe someday you'll actually win rock, paper, scissors and get the first shower,” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, fuck you Sam. Let’s go eat,” Dean grinned.

\-------------------------

_The figure turned, its posture both protective and open, almost inviting. He felt it more than he heard it:_

_“Cas!”_

_“Where’s Cas?”_

_“I’m not leaving here without you.”_

_“I need you.”_

_“Cas!”_

_“Cas.”_

_“Cas…”_

_Selfishness, guilt, fear, relief, neediness...they all passed through him. Each emotion replacing the last in an infinite cycle. He tried to replace them with the annoyance and irritation that he’d unknowingly taught himself to emanate. They couldn’t. He watched the annoyance, the irritation fall to the ground and break like fragile panes of glass. His facade lay shattered at his feet along with his sense of humanity. He looked up and saw the figure move out of the shadows. He knew how green his eyes were when they locked on the relentless blue. He’d been here before. The skin on his shoulder that had once held a ropy scar bubbled when he realized that he’d always been here, he’d just kept his eyes closed._

\-------------------------

They were both still yawning away the last vestiges of sleep, silently sitting across from one another at the diner. They were quiet as they ate. Dean was physically sore and distracted. Last night’s dream, it wasn’t like the others. With a full tank of gas and each holding a cup of bitter convenience store coffee, they pulled on to the highway and headed home.

\-------------------------

“You know every word to every song on every single one of these cassettes,” Sam complained over the sound of Dean singing off key. “Don’t you think that it might be time to branch out?”

“What’s the point Sam? You can’t replace the classics. It’s my happy place,” he reached over and turned the volume up for the simple purpose of aggravating his little brother. He smiled when he felt the exasperated sigh and watched Sam lean his head against the window and close his eyes. It was a long drive home and the louder he sang, the harder it became to get lost in his own head. He needed to drive his baby with the music up.

\-------------------------

Having nodded and smiled at Sam as he walked past and mumbled goodnight hours ago, Dean was still sitting at the table with a tumbler of scotch in his hand. His mind kept turning to Sam laughing off how fucked up their lives were. Logically, he knew that it was true. His reality was that he’d never really know. This life...hunting...it was never a choice, it had never been a choice. There was no white picket fence or happily ever after. The best that he could hope for was that he would be able to keep the demons at bay, literally and figuratively. Witches and vengeful spirits, those were common occurrences in the life of a Winchester. Those were problems that he could solve mindlessly, almost robotically. It wasn’t until he traded his soul that he invited a new element into the game. All things holy, and all things evil, although at times it was hard to differentiate between the two. Was it pathetic that his ‘good old days’ where when a large vampire nest was considered a big hunt and not a way to kill time? Monsters, creatures, they were inherently evil and there was no moral compass needed to questions whether or not they deserved to live or die. Their lives and their deaths were primal. Angels and demons, they inhabited human bodies like squatters, and they had an agenda. On a good day it was quid pro quo with either side, on a bad day it was bloody mayhem. Sam was right, they had both died and returned. Like he’d been told once, he must have an angel looking out for him.

\-------------------------

_The skin closed and the bleeding stopped. The dark bruising faded and the displaced bones fused themselves back together. It was always under Cas’s soft touch that he felt the release of pain that left him breathless. But it was the unexpected pat on the shoulder or handshake that offered an almost imperceptible release of something that he didn’t understand. He felt the unmistakable shift when he touched Cas’s hand, or was pulled into an embrace born of relief. He could see his eyes change and his smile, not the charming grin or the wry smirk, the genuine smile that he very rarely used. Small and fleeting feelings of warmth that coursed through him and left him somehow changed. He turned and looked. Where the scotch bottle once sat was now nothing but a large band aid. The faces of the nameless women whom he’d encountered long enough to get what he needed, they were nothing more than a first aid kit. But he saw those hands and he knew that they were meant to heal. They had always healed him, even when he didn’t realize that he needed it, even when he had given up and accepted that he couldn’t be fixed, that he would always be broken. Cas still tried._

\-------------------------

He heard the voices before he entered the kitchen. He flashed the charming grin when he walked through the doorway and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Hey Cas, how’s it hanging?”

“How is what hanging?” Cas looked confused. Cas almost always looked confused. 

“Seriously? After all of these years and you still don’t get it. It’s slang Cas. It’s the type of shit that lazy assholes like me say to ask you how things are going. I swear to god I am going to buy you a book that explains all of this shit.”

“I have a clear understanding of the curse words,” Cas said, his voice carrying a low tone of insecurity.

“That’s probably because they are like Dean’s second language. Actually, they might qualify as Dean’s first language,” Sam laughed.

“You say curse words, I say colorful sentence enhancers,” Dean shrugged, digging through the refrigerator. “Want breakfast Sammy?”

“I’m guessing we’re out of stale donuts?”

“Funny. But yes, we’re out of donuts. I think I can manage bacon and eggs without burning the place down, so are you in?”

“Why not. I’m sure I’ve eaten a lot worse.”

“Fuck you, Sam.”

“See,” Cas perked up. “That exchange I understood. Although I’m still having trouble trying to imagine what could be hanging and why you seem to be interested in it’s well being.”

Sam simultaneously spit out coffee and choked.

“I take your reaction to mean that it was a joke?” Cas questioned innocently.

“Yes Cas,” Sam laughed. “It was a joke.”

Dean listened to the conversation taking place behind him while he stood at the stove, somehow unable to take part. He had spoken before Cas could say, “Hello Dean.” He had avoided a glimpse into those deep blue eyes. He knew that dreams were just dreams and if his teenage years taught him anything, there was no way to control them. Hell, he might dig out his own laptop after breakfast and do the embarrassingly desperate and mainstream search for the meaning behind them. They were so vivid, so real. And other than their father, the costars were standing in a kitchen that was seemingly becoming more cramped with each breath that he took. He didn’t think that he’d ever spent so much time focusing on cooking bacon to a perfect crisp.

\-------------------------

“Is everything okay, Dean?”

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine,” Dean grinned. Cas knew that he was lying.

Sam had gone to shower, leaving Dean in the kitchen with the voice, the face, the hands that had entrenched themselves into his uncontrolled thoughts. It was quietly awkward, but only because he allowed it to be. Normally he would make inappropriate and sarcastic conversation, but he couldn’t work up the energy for the sarcasm. 

“You just seem a little…”

“Really Cas, I’m good,” Dean grinned again. Cas still knew that he was lying.

“Sam said that you may have found some demons?”

“And thank you for keeping Cas out of that one, Sam,” Dean muttered. “We don’t know if we found shit. We see death with no rhyme or reason and we automatically think ‘demon’. I thank myself every day for bringing that element into the game.”

“It wasn’t just demons, it was the angels too. And it wasn’t just you, Dean.”

“Well, in my experience the angels aren’t much better.” Dean instantly regretted the words, and felt the sting when Cas dropped his head. “You know that I’m not talking about you, you aren’t like them.”

“I know,” Cas said quietly. Being different, it had been his undoing.

“But back to the demon thing. I’m thinking it’s probably a rogue group or some debt collection. Nothing I want to mess with.” Dean babbled to distract from Cas’s hurt feelings. It wasn’t the first time, but it would always be awkward. Cas wasn’t supposed to feel personal sorrow or humiliation. Cas was built to have emotions tied only to a greater good. While he was being judged for his willful show of emotion towards of humans, the powers that be didn’t understand that none of it was willful. He was given orders to raise a human soul from hell, and following those orders had forever changed him. He could pretend, he could be nothing more than an actor in a scene portraying the great warrior Castiel, but he would have to sever his ties to the Winchesters. He could leave his family, the comfort of his inherent power and infinite existence, but have no guarantee that he would survive on earth as a human. Dean had watched the cycle, the pattern, for years and he knew that Cas would never be able to decide. Even when Heaven rejected him, he wasn’t ready to be human. Even when Dean pushed him away, he wasn’t ready to be Castiel again. 

“So you aren’t going to get involved?” Cas questioned, breaking him from his reverie.

“No. I told Sam we could keep an eye on it, see how ugly it gets. I’d be more than happy to just sit back and retire from the Heaven vs. Hell game. Shit, some days I’d be more than happy to just sit back and retire from it all. But you know what they say about idle hands. Wait, that probably wasn’t the best analogy,” Dean tried another grin. “So, no offense because believe it or not I do enjoy your company for the most part, but what are you doing here? Just making a pit stop?”

“I don’t know, really. I am up there and it’s total chaos. Nothing makes sense. But then I come down here…”

“And nothing makes sense.”

\-------------------------

Dean laid on his bed, his hand wrapped around the beer bottle that he had resting on his chest, his other hand using the remote control to flip through channels. He was looking for a movie or sports, hell even a half decent documentary would distract him enough to keep him from leaving his room to seek out Sam and Cas while they looked through books.

Cas had pulled up a chair next to Sam and was going over ancient texts with him, using it as a distraction so that he wouldn’t seek out Dean to ask him again if he was okay. He was here because Dean needed him.

\-------------------------

Dean dozed off.

_It was cold in the dim light and he was naked. Not stripped of clothes, but more naked than he’d ever been. His flirty wink was gone. His sarcasm and charm had been taken from him. His habit of joking instead of falling apart, instead of letting anybody see how his world affected him, was no longer an option. The thoughts, the ones that he tucked to the dark recesses, the ones that he drank away, were there with him. The iron vice tightened against his skull as he screamed denial and begged for emptiness. He had seen and experienced things in Hell that he knew he would never talk about, but the things inside of his head were just as frightening. Reality...his reality was a guilt ridden wasteland. Cold and ugly, yet normally covered under a veil of meaningless silent diatribes and careless distractions. Mundane and justifiable violence, alcohol to numb the places that dared feel pain, women offering a purely physical respite from his own thoughts._

He woke up with his heart pounding and breaths shallow. He felt like he’d been watching a horror movie that had just gone to commercial break, the last scene being the protagonist backed into the corner by whatever evil he’d encountered. He looked around and reached for the room temperature bottle, grateful that he’d set it on his nightstand before falling asleep. He brought it to his lips and swallowed the warm beer quickly. 

\-------------------------

Dean again had his feet on the table with a tumbler of scotch in his hands. Cas was wandering around the large main room of the bunker, just as he had hundreds of times before. Sam had gone to bed. 

“You asked me earlier why I am here,” Cas said softly. “I came because you needed me.”

“I didn’t send out a bat signal, Cas.” Dean tilted the glass to his lips.

Cas lifted his head and tried to force Dean to meet his eyes. “You didn’t have to.”

“So I’m guessing this is somehow tied into that profound bond thing that we share?”

“That bond has been severed, Dean,” Cas stopped walking. “But I still know when I am needed.”

“So what if I told you that everything is fine?”

“You’d be lying.”

“Okay Cas, humor me. What do I need you for?” Dean knew that he was being an asshole, he was more comfortable when he was being an asshole.

“That, I don’t know. I know that for the most part you have Sam, and you turn to him. But, I also know that there are things inside of you that you don’t want Sam to know about.”

“So you’re like basically the default guy who knows all?”

“Maybe,” Cas shrugged. “All I know is that I felt you. I try to stop myself from coming down here because you were right when you said that it may be a setback. It doesn’t always work. I can’t always stop myself. I feel you, and I come to you.”

“So what is it you feel? Some type of angst? I know it’s not anger or you’d be here all of the fucking time.”

“I just feel a draw, if that makes sense. Many times I’ve come here when you need me, and you barely speak to me. At times I come here, and you don’t even see me.”

“See you? As in you do the invisible thing and hang out? That’s a little creepy, Cas.”

“It’s only creepy if I have a motive. If I can convince myself that everything is fine, then I leave you undisturbed.”

“So what, that’s like some type of invisible false alarm?”

“It’s never a false alarm.”

“Okay,” Dean swung his feet off of the table and leaned forward. “You feel me and you come here, visible, invisible, whatever. So the minor shit, low priority, I’m going ape shit, total code red?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, you’ve been here all fucking day and I know it’s not because you’re actually fascinated by that shit that Sam does. So what brought you here?”

“I told you, Dean. I don’t know. I can leave.”

“But whenever things go south, you’ll come back.”

“I try not to,” Cas said, staring at the floor.

“I’m not trying to be a dick, Cas. I’m not asking you to leave. I’m just telling you that you didn’t have to come. I’m fine.”

“You’re lying. You don’t have to talk to me, Dean. We’ve known each other for years and we’ve already had conversations similar to this. Some of them ending with you telling me in your own colorful way to leave, some of them ending with me just leaving quietly at will. This conversation can end either way. I’m just explaining to you why I showed up. I not asking anything of you, I’m just here.”

Dean ran his hands down his face and leaned back. “Dreams, Cas. I’ve been having dreams. My father, Sam…”

“You’re time in…”

“Yeah, that too,” Dean said softly. “So that’s it, just another episode of Dean’s baggage fucking with his head, not exactly an SOS.”

“If anybody were to comprehend the things that you went through, it would be me,” Cas walked to him, gently resting his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I know. But,” he groaned, standing up, “I’m pretty sure that I’m not going to have a heart to heart with anybody about it any time soon. Goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight Dean,” Cas said softly, too softly for Dean to hear him as he walked away.

\-------------------------

His thoughts were traveling down a dark path as he laid in bed and stared, his eyes unable to focus. It may be a band aid, but he could use a quick fix. They always left one dim lamp on and it threw just enough light for him to see the shadow.

“You’re still here?”

“Um, I don’t really have anywhere else I need to be, but if it bothers you I can…”

“No, no, you’re fine, Cas,” Dean said softly. “I just came out here to get a drink. This whole falling asleep thing isn’t working out. I figured that I’ll either drink myself to sleep, or drink enough that I don’t give a shit.” Dean reached into the cabinet and wrapped his hand around the familiar bottle. His glass from earlier was still on the table and he didn’t see any reason to dirty another one. 

“Is it because of the dreams?”

Dean looked up. He could make out Cas’s shadowed outline, but he didn’t need the light to picture his face. His eyes would be open and direct with an almost childlike innocence, his lips slightly parted while he waited for an answer.

“Probably, I don’t know,” Dean sighed, turning his back to Cas.

“I’m here Dean, if you need me.”

Dean lifted the glass to his lips and the whispers reverberated. _“I do everything that you ask...I see inside of you...I always come when you call...I did it, I did all of it for you…”_

“That profound bond, the one that you created when you raised my soul from Hell, is it really severed?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“The first time I lost my grace.”

Dean set his glass down and leaned both hands on the table, letting his head drop. “So why…” He pushed away from the table and turned, stopping when his body was only inches from Cas’s. He waited for a signal, a hesitancy, a slight step backwards, but one never came. He reached out and gently placed his hands on either side of Cas’s face, pressing their lips together before he could talk himself out of it. Cas’s arms hung limply by his sides, but he was rooted in place. Dean encouraged him to part his lips, to slide their tongues together slowly. He felt the subtle shift, the small cracks that he tried to ignore were gradually filling in. Miniscule pieces that had always felt broken were becoming whole. Cas wrapped his fingers around Dean’s arms and deepened the kiss, he was inexperienced and clumsy. Dean finally pulled away and let his fingers slowly slide down Cas’s cheeks when he took a step back. “Tell me you felt something, Cas,” he said quietly. 

“Dean, I felt…”

“No, I don’t want a literal explanation of my lips on yours. Beyond that, tell me that you felt something.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say that...you know what? It doesn’t matter.” Dean turned and walked away, leaving the open bottle and tumbler half full of amber liquid on the table. He got to the doorway that would take him down the hall when he was stopped.

“I felt something, Dean. I felt something, but I don’t know what it was. I don’t...I don’t have the words to describe it.”

“Neither do I,” he whispered, walking slowly to his room.

\-------------------------

He didn’t dream.

\-------------------------

“Hello sleeping beauty,” Sam smiled, handing his brother a mug of the dark sludge that they tried to pass off as coffee.

“No longer sleeping, but still a beauty,” Dean yawned. ”When you’re this good looking, you have to take every precaution you can to protect it. I’m like a piece of fine art, Sam.”

“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I grabbed a dozen donuts. I figure those should hold you for a couple of days.”

“Coffee and donuts, you know that there are shit ton of lame cop jokes in there, right?” Dean smirked.

“Yep. So I’m guessing that Cas left?”

“He was here when I went to bed. If you haven’t seen him then I’m going to have to go with yes, he probably left.”

“Did he say why he was here?”

“He missed our witty banter and sparkling personalities.”

“I figured you must have somehow slipped up and said his name,” Sam chuckled. 

“He does not show up every time I say his name,” Dean said, running his hand down his face. He heard it again, the soft whispers. _“I do everything that you ask...I see inside of you...I always come when you call...I did it, I did all of it for you…”_ He reached for a donut, waiting for Sam to talk, needing a respite from the deep and gravely hum. “So this demon thing,” he finally said to break the silence.

“I thought you didn’t want any part of it.”

“I don’t, but I thought we agreed that we’d keep an eye on it.”

“Yeah, that was only a couple of days ago. I can look into it if you want.”

“I don’t really care. You’re just usually right on top of that shit,” he mumbled with his mouth full of fresh donut. 

“Yeah, well I think that I’m finally making headway on some translation. I’m hoping to get through this text in the next couple of weeks.”

“I seriously don’t get how you can sit there looking at those old books for weeks.”

“I don’t get how you can spend hours leaning over the engine of your car fixing things that aren’t broken.”

“Okay, point taken. Speaking of, did you hear a knocking sound when you took my car without my permission this morning?”

“You left your keys on the table, and I bought donuts.”

“Which is why I’m not pissed off. So did you hear a noise or not?”

“I didn’t notice anything.”

“Do we have beer? I think I’m going to take a look at it anyway.”

“And you give me shit for researching ancient texts.”

“Never underestimate the power of getting your hands dirty, Sam,” Dean grinned. “Taking shit apart and putting it back together is definitely good for the soul. Second only to driving too fast with the music loud. And sex, sex fits in there somewhere.”

“Do you need a minute alone?” Sam chuckled. “Maybe an extra long shower?”

“You are a sick man Sam Winchester,” Dean finished his coffee and stood up. “I’ll be leaning over the engine of my car fixing shit that probably doesn’t need fixing, so there’d better be beer to stock my cooler.”

\-------------------------

The puzzle of the 1967 Chevy engine wasn’t the distraction that he was hoping it would be. He could still see the slideshow. The multiple cassettes ranging from classic arena rock to mainstream heavy metal weren’t drowning out the voices. It wasn’t just Cas. If anything, he couldn’t remember feeling more human than he had when he touched Cas. He couldn’t let himself think about it yet, he didn’t know what it meant, he didn’t want to know. He was filled with the lifelong resentment towards his father. He heard himself mumbling, “yes sir” in a range of voices that finally deepened with age. But, it was always those two words. He never remembered seeing anything other than vengeance and emptiness in his father. The man was so driven that Dean wasn’t convinced that he really saw the two sons who relied on him. Dean stopped relying on him, he became Sam’s protector when John wouldn’t. That’s why he didn’t step in the night that Sam left for school. Sam needed to leave, Dean needed to know that a Winchester had a chance to live in a world that wasn’t a dark and violent underbelly. He didn’t remember when he became John’s soldier. He’d spent so many wasted years admiring the man, he’d spent so many years drowning in guilt. At times he wondered how he stayed afloat. Some days he didn’t care if he did. Dean accepted that he would always be dirty hunter scum. Sam was more, Sam should have been more. He still cringed when he watched Sam make a kill, it wasn’t Sam’s world. He couldn’t see that Sam needed him just much as he needed Sam, he never would. He couldn’t accept that he was a better man than his father. He was the best hunter out there, and there was some sick satisfaction in being known as the best. The lies that he told himself about not caring were empty. The fact that the name Dean Winchester meant something was a source of warped pride. He was known for his ability to kill things, for being reckless and cocky. Only he knew that it was hollow. His seeming fearlessness was nothing more than a lack of self worth. He expected to die young and bloody, and he had. 

These dreams, they reminded him how broken he really was. He could almost physically feel the cracks as they had slowly become an undeniable part of him. Life was never going to change for Dean Winchester.

\-------------------------

He sat on his bed with the box, waiting to hear Sam’s foot falls and his bedroom door close. He reached to open it, but couldn’t. The walls of the small room were closing in on him. He shut the door quietly before he walked down the long hallway. He grabbed the bottle of scotch, but didn’t open it when he set it on the table next to the box. 

He twisted the spent shell in his fingers. He’d gone back for it after he’d killed the demon. The yellow eyed demon who had snuck into their home and killed Mary Winchester. That cold night when he stood, holding his baby brother, not yet knowing that his life was no longer his. The vengeance that John had so desperately searched for had come after his death, more than 20 years after Mary’s death. Dean remember it clearly. The satisfaction of watching the demon disappear, he could still picture the smirk before it faded into nothing but dust and smoke, then dissipated. He remembered the emptiness that came with knowing that everything he had lived for, everything that he had been taught, was now meaningless. He continued to hunt, he didn’t have anything else, and he hated himself when Sam insisted that he stay by his side. Sam may have lost his love, and everything that he believed he’d ever wanted in the same manner that John did, but Sam had options. He just refused to see them. With a sigh, Dean set the shell casing on the table and watched it spin slightly before it stopped and stayed upright. 

He reached for the stack of pictures, old and well worn from all of the times that he had held them. A beautiful blonde woman holding a small toddler, a child already bearing a mischievous restlessness in his green eyes. The next was the same beautiful blonde woman, smiling as she held her infant son. The three of them together, Dean’s irritation at being replaced as the baby was laughably obvious. He and Sam over the years, sitting on the trunk of the Impala until they were deemed too heavy and ultimately told to lean against it, but ordered not to leave scratches. Those made him almost smile. The infamous Winchester brothers, separated by four years, and complete opposites in every way imaginable. 

It was the small handful of pictures he had left in his hand that were always the most painful. John on the day of his wedding. John hugging or kissing his beloved wife. John holding his children as babies. John smiling. Dean had always wanted to remember her; the sound of her voice when she sang him to sleep, the smell of her perfume. He’d always wanted to remember his father before he’d become nothing more than a walking corpse. Dean lost both of his parents that night. He never saw his father smile like that. The pictures never seemed real because they were of a man that he’d never known. The hardest part was the realization that he’d become that same man. Sarcasm, jokes, fake smiles that took years to perfect just to cover the turmoil. At least John had been driven, driven enough to look at his children as a burden until they were old enough to be useful. But, John had a purpose and an end goal. Dean survived. Dean existed. Dean went through the motions, and would until the day he made something angry enough that he would die bloody. The day that he would finally stay dead, and Sam would have to mourn him. Dean had wondered more than once if that would be the day when Sam would finally leave the life, or if in true Winchester form, he too would just let the days pass until he lost his final fight. He turned the pictures face down before he laid them on the table, apart from the others. He turned away from the from the unanswered questions, the painful memories, and dropped his head. The tears, his weakness, were usually shed when he was alone. 

He didn’t need to hear the footsteps or the slight swishing of fabric to know that he was there, standing inches away, waiting to be told whether he should stay or go. It wasn’t that he couldn’t decide for himself, he’d shown more free will than any of his kind. He was waiting for Dean to know what he needed. Dean reached between the coats and wrapped his hands around Cas’s hips, pulling him closer to rest his head against his stomach, feeling weak for needing warmth and reassurance. He felt the cold buttons against his cheek and the cheap tie move slightly with every breath. Cas sensed the annoyance and untied the sloppy knot, letting it hang around his neck. Dean held Cas tight, his palms cradling Cas’s hip bones, his thumbs running along his waistband. The sloppily tucked in shirt finally pulled free and Dean felt Cas’s warm skin. He was becoming intoxicated by the musky scent of his flesh. He’d known, he’d always been able to rationalize that in his own way Cas was human, but he’d never felt it. He’d never touched a body that truly cared about him. His eyes closed when he felt the reassuring hands running through his hair, sliding down his neck, squeezing his shoulders. Cas felt more human than he did. His hands slid up Cas’s shirt and across his taut stomach. He couldn’t let himself think. Thinking, questioning his life and his actions, that’s what brought the tears. He fumbled with the bottom buttons, not realizing that Cas had started working the top ones until their hands almost met and Dean pushed his shirt open, pressing his full lips to the soft flesh. He felt the catch in Cas’s chest and moved his hands around to his back, holding Cas’s body against his mouth while he kissed and sucked gently. He was vaguely aware of Cas growing hard against him, and ignored his own erection. He pulled his mouth away to rest his forehead against Cas. He felt the visible shiver that his warm breath elicited. “You’ve never felt more human to me,” he whispered thickly. 

“My humanity has been my downfall, but it has also brought me freedom,” Cas said quietly, still moving his hands across Dean’s shoulders and up his neck. 

Dean took a shuddering breath. “I can’t remember the last time I felt like this, if I’ve ever felt like this.” He lifted his head and looked up at the unexpectedly toned chest, the ever present five o’clock shadow, waiting and needing to see those blue eyes look down at him. Cas tilted his head and they finally locked, deep blue on emerald green. Dean didn’t know about the turmoil in his eyes, he didn’t know about the wet vulnerability that Cas could see. “You really have done it all for me…”

“I can see inside of you, you know that,” Cas ran his fingers lightly through Dean’s hair. He could feel Dean’s body trembling.

“You’re trying to heal me, you’re always trying to heal me.”

“As much as you’ll let me.”

Dean dropped his head and could make out the red marks that his mouth had left on Cas’s skin. He pressed his lips to his stomach one last time before sliding his chair backward and standing up. He looked at the ceiling and ran his hands down his face then wordlessly turned to walk away. He stopped when Cas reached out and wrapped his fingers loosely around his wrist.

“Dean…”

“I don’t know what you’re feeling, Cas. I don’t know that you even understand what you’re feeling. This is emotionally charged and the best thing that I could do right now is to walk away.”

“You can’t deny that you need me.”

“No, I can’t, and that’s why I can’t do this. I can’t take advantage of this, Cas. Not with you.”

“This, all of it, makes me feel human too.”

“You said it yourself, your humanity is your downfall. I can’t be the reason that you are stuck in limbo, not anymore.”

“To them it’s my downfall, to me it feels right. I’m not asking anything of you, Dean, other than to not feel regret or guilt. I know you believe that you break everything that you touch, but that’s not always true.” 

“If we walk down that hallway and let the door shut behind us, I don’t think that I can stop.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Everything inside of Dean needed to feel Cas. He needed the tender humanity, the slow healing, and the underlying passion that he knew was there.

\-------------------------

Dean pressed Cas against the door with his own body, cupping his face gently with one hand, kissing him slowly, feeling his timidity. He pulled his own thin t-shirt over his head, the heat emanating between their bare chests already forming a fine sheen of sweat. He led Cas slowly to the bed, unbuckling, unbuttoning, and unzipping until their clothing was in a pile on the floor. He reached for Cas, pulling him against his body, rolling him on his back and settling between his legs. Cas was shaking beneath him when he leaned in and held him in a long kiss, letting the passion build, feeling their hard cocks start to throb between them. He rocked and Cas gasped at the velvet friction. The things that Dean was feeling, the warmth coursing through his body when Cas slid his thighs against his hips left a lump in his throat and a need that he’d never felt before. He was gentle and tender, more tender than he had ever been when he ran his lips along Cas’s jaw and across his neck. They moved together in an easy rhythm, Cas’s shy hands trailing down Dean’s back, digging into the warm flesh when he tilted his hips, their slick bodies making him feel things that he didn’t know he was capable of. He felt the tension in his stomach and the throbbing intensified. Cas was panting, almost crying, needing something, but he didn’t know what. “It’s okay, just let it happen,” Dean whispered hotly in his ear, nipping at his earlobe and sliding his mouth down his neck. Cas was dizzy when he felt it. He cried out and arched his body, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. There was a warmth spreading between them and he desperately needed Dean to feel the things that he felt. Dean was in a different place. This was deeper than sex. There were things happening inside of him, a peacefulness that faded when his body started to build to climax. He felt Cas sliding beneath him, pressing his hands against his lower back, silently begging him. He tried to hold back, he didn’t want this to end, but with a loud groan he rocked against Cas’s body and came hard, sweaty and panting. He waited to feel the gentle arms wrap around him before he buried his face, gently kissing the sensitive skin of Cas’s neck, his heart pounding against their chests. 

\-------------------------

Dean was holding himself on his elbows, his eyes searching for Cas’s in the dark. “You didn’t have to give me that.”

“I know I didn’t. We aren’t going to talk about why it happened or how it happened. It happened, and there shouldn’t be any regret or guilt, Dean. I knew why we came into this room. The only concern we should have is how to clean up this mess.”

“Uh, tissues are marginally effective. A shower scores 100% on the effectiveness scale.”

“So you need to take a shower?”

“I can. Or we can. Your body, it’s just as human as mine,” he dipped his head to kiss Cas’s swollen lips. “C’mon, let me get you cleaned up.”

\-------------------------

They threw their boxers on and padded quietly down the hallway. Dean led Cas under the hot stream of water and moved soapy hands across a taut and hard body that he never knew existed, that he’d never thought about until tonight. He smiled at Cas’s sighs and soft moans of contentment, his sounds of satisfaction. They dried off with thin towels and wrapped them around their waists, Dean promising that he’d give Cas a pair of his own boxers to replace the sticky ones that he held balled up in his hand.

\-------------------------

“Do you want me to stay?”

Dean had already slid under the sheets while Cas stood nervously, chewing on his lip.

“There are some decisions that I need you to make on your own, Cas,” Dean said gently.

“I don’t want to do anything that will…”

“It’s your decision, not mine.”

Cas hesitated for just a moment before he crawled into the bed and felt Dean’s arms. They both knew that he didn’t sleep, they both knew that he would probably be gone when Dean woke up, and they both felt the physical shiver that coursed through his body when Dean pressed his lips against the back of his neck. 

They laid silently, Dean holding their bodies together, Cas trembling until Dean pulled him closer. He eventually heard the soft snore and asked himself how long he should stay. He knew that he wasn't leaving any time soon. Right now he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

\-------------------------

Dean did dream. He let himself feel everything that had happened between him and Cas.

\-------------------------

He wasn’t surprised when he woke up alone. He chuckled when he saw his clothes folded neatly and sitting on top of his laundry basket. The towels that they had dropped on the floor were gone, and he was willing to bet that they were also in the laundry basket with two new ones hanging in the bathroom. He wasn’t surprised when he looked into the large room and saw the table cleared of his box of pictures and bottle of scotch. He knew that he would find the box buried in the bottom drawer where he kept it. He sighed, knowing that the things that he felt needed to be kept inside. Sam would inherently know that something had happened, but he’d never guess what it was. Dean’s grin and sarcasm would keep him from asking.

\-------------------------

“No long shower this morning?”

“Nope. I couldn’t sleep so I took one last night. A bit of advice, don’t stand on slippery tile after you’ve had a few drinks.”

“I’ve seen you do a lot of things after a few drinks,” Sam laughed.

“Well, a hot shower is not on the suggested list. So, anything going on?”

“Uh, not really. We may have a possible vamp nest in Ohio, but I can pass it off.”

“We can take it.”

“Why the sudden interest in the small hunts?”

“I’ve always hunted, so it’s not exactly sudden. Plus, we might as well hone our skills while things are quiet.”

“Hone our skills?”

“Yes, Sam,” Dean smirked. “You know, make sure we’re still on top of our game.”

“I know what you meant, I just never expected to hear you say it.”

“Does this go back to the shallow ape with bad table manners? Like I said, I can read and write. I might even be able to pull off some basic math if you really needed me to. Do you want breakfast?”

“You do mean something besides stale donuts, right?” Sam chuckled until Dean shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. “So basic math like we have three suspects and two Winchesters, what do you need to complete the circle?”

“Yeah, something like that. Although that was your idea.”

“All I did was sit back while you said his name.”

“One of these days I’ll say it and he won’t show up.”

“So say it,” Sam grinned.

“No.”

“Becauses you know I’m right?”

“Because I know you’re an asshole.”

“You still know that I’m right.”

“Shut up and hand me the eggs,” Dean tried to sound exasperated. 

\-------------------------

“Seriously, the same music over and over again?”

“Seriously, the same whining over and over again? If you can find me new cassettes, and I mean new as in never opened before, I’m willing to branch out.”

Sam opened his mouth and started to talk.

“I’m not talking about going on eBay or any of that shit. Walk into a store and buy me a brand new cassette tape. We can listen to the entire fucking thing while I drive. No? I guess you’re shit out of luck,” Dean grinned.

“You could install a new stereo system.”

“I thought about it, but eight track players are seriously fucking hard to find these days.”

“You are such a dick.”

“All of this brotherly love, it’s enough to melt my heart Sammy. It really is.”

“Shut up and drive.”

“If you say so,” Dean smiled and turned the volume up.

\-------------------------

He drifted off while Sam was in the shower washing away the road grime:

_“I need you,” he whispered urgently. “I see inside of you,” the hot breath almost imperceptible against his ear. “I do everything you ask of me.” He felt soft hands slide up his chest, strong thighs pressed against his hips as he lay on his back. The lips were no longer timid or shy when they touched his, eager to feel his tongue. His arms wrapped around the body and his fingers ran down the warm back as he was straddled, held against the bed. He was needy, he ached, he wanted to feel himself inside or pressed against sweat slicked skin. He was hungry to hear the soft moans and take in the heady scent of raw sex. “I need you,” he whispered again, rocking his hips, almost desperate to be felt. “I always come when you call.” There was a new context. He needed to come, he needed them both to. Those deep blue eyes saw his weakness, but knew that somewhere there was strength. He was caught in a passionate haze, wondering if there was a chance that someday he might not be as broken. He could never be whole, but he could be more than the self loathing man that he’d accepted. He could be all of the things that he saw in those eyes that locked on his. “I need you…”_

He rolled over, relieved that Sam wasn’t close enough to him to see that he was hard. It was like when he was in high school and he’d dreamt about the new young science teacher, only those dreams didn’t make him dizzy or make his heart pound. He didn’t care if there was any hot water left, he almost hoped that there wasn’t when he rolled off of the bed and kept his back to his brother. He grabbed clean clothes and went into the small bathroom to take a shower.

\-------------------------

They were in the car, each holding a cardboard cup of bad coffee watching the abandoned house less than a block away.

“At least this group is going old school. I can’t fucking stand the new blood suckers who pop up in night clubs and shit. Seriously, could these writers please stop with the whole romanticizing the ruthless killers?”

“Not in the mood to go rushing into an underground club with a machete?”

“Funny Sam. Life was just a lot easier before all of this shit became mainstream. Think about that asshole who ordered spells and shit online. It’s pretty fucked up that he was able to get his hands on it. And now all of these people fascinated by the other stuff? Let them live our lives for a week and they’d go back to reading those sticky sweet romance novels and watching shit on the Lifetime Network.”

“Colorful sentence enhancers aside, I agree with you. But, it keeps us busy.”

“Yeah, now as long as demons aren’t the next trend,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

“Things have stayed quiet so far. I think you were right, rogue group or debt collection.”

“Good, because I don’t want to deal with either side of that coin.”

“Not even Cas?” 

“Okay, we’re losing light here. Let’s get this done.”

Sam just shook his head when his brother got out of the car. Walking down a residential street with a machete in their hand might look strange if it was anybody other than Dean Winchester.

\-------------------------

“Two on five, not a bad ratio.”

“You know I’ve had dreams like that,” Dean grinned at his blood covered brother.

“Please tell me that I’m not one of the two. Or five.”

“Aaand you just killed it for me, Sam.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to take one of your perversions away from you.”

“Perversions? Tell me that you haven’t thought about it.”

“See, this is the difference between you and I. Well, one of many. But, what I think about and what I talk about are two different things. It’s called a filter.”

“So that’s what makes you so fucking boring,” Dean smiled. “No rock, paper, scissors. I got three, you got two, I win and get the hot shower.”

“Basic math?”

“It’s basic math.”

\-------------------------

“Hello Dean.”

Dean was just pulling a clean t-shirt over his head when he spun around. “Hey Cas,” he smiled softly. “Why are you here?”

“Are you going to ask me that every time I show up?” he dropped his head.

“I don’t know, probably. I always have. I just...I didn’t expect to see you.”

“I can go.”

“No Cas, don’t do that second guessing yourself thing. If I want you to go, I’ll tell you. You know that.”

“I just don’t know the protocol here.”

“Protocol?” Dean smiled. “There’s no protocol. It’s called the awkward morning after, or few days later in our case.”

“I just…”

“Buyer’s remorse?”

“What?” Cas looked up, his face full of doubt.

“Regret, Cas. We talked about it. You’re the one who said no guilt or regret, I’m standing by that.”

They both turned at the sound of the old pipes shaking as Sam turned off the shower. “I’m going to go,” Cas said quietly.

“Cas you don’t have…” Dean turned and saw that the room was empty.

\-------------------------

_Again, he was bloody and bruised when he turned to check on his companions, he needed to know that he’d received the worst of it. He needed to protect them. He turned back to walk away and the tan fabric encased arm reached out, but it didn’t drop. Fingers gently wrapped around his shoulder, turning him. It was through Cas’s eyes that he saw the pained reassurance in his own. He saw the relief that at least for another day, he hadn’t let anybody down. He felt a dull ache in his chest, Cas’s chest. He desperately wanted to reach out and touch the bloody and bruised face. The room turned, Sam was in the corner, his gaze drawn to the floor. Sam knew, he’d always known. The desire to be pulled into an embrace was so strong that it made his eyes watery. He could feel the tears, but couldn’t turn away from his eyes, eyes that had changed. Confusion, self loathing, they had returned. He wanted to scream that it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t hurt anybody...but he had no voice. He broke their gaze and looked at the full lips, the bottom split and bleeding. The rust colored skin on the work calloused hands, the streaks on his jeans where he’d tried to wipe the blood from them. His stance, defiant and defensive. His eyes, his lips, his hands, the patient and gentle passion that they held was cloaked. He slowly loosened his grip until his hand dropped. He searched for those green eyes, but they’d already looked away, he’d already started walking away. He never stayed, he always walked away._

\-------------------------

He pulled on his clothes quickly and left the room quietly. He knew what he’d find outside.

“I didn’t come because you needed me.”

“So why did you come, Cas?”

“I needed to. I needed to know.”

“Know what?” he could see his breath as he ran his hands up and down his arms. He should have grabbed a jacket, but he didn’t want to risk waking Sam by going back into the room.

“That you were okay.”

“I’m okay, Cas. As okay as I’m ever going to be.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I have to. It’s the only way I can get out of bed in the morning. The minute I stop believing it is when I get careless on a hunt, or end up downing half a bottle of scotch just to get to sleep. It’s when I sit at the table and look at pictures that I know I shouldn’t be looking at.”

Cas winced and turned to walk away.

“Cas, I’m not talking about you,” Dean said softly, reaching for his arm to stop him. “You brought me back. The first time you touched me, when you raised my soul from Hell, you brought me back. You’ve spent years doing it, and it took me until now to see it. Cas, look at me, please.” Cas finally turned and lifted his eyes. “All you have ever done is try to save me. Those dreams? They weren’t just about my father or Sam, they were about you too. You rebelled and you did it for me. You come everytime I call for you. You can see inside of me. You do everything I ask of you. I’ve been so fucking selfish Cas. I don’t know if I was just too stupid to see it, or if I didn’t want to see it, but now I have. You know me better than anyone. You’ve tried to heal me. And what have I done? Put your ass on the line time after time? Demanded things of you? Been a total asshole when I didn’t get my way? If our profound bond was severed, then why Cas? Why do you still do it?”

“You told me that I made you feel human. You make me feel human, Dean.”

“But you said it yourself, that’s your downfall. You go back upstairs with the stench of humanity on you and they know that you’ve been slumming it with Dean Winchester. You’re an angel, Cas.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean. I may be ignorant and naive sometimes, but the only thing that really separates us is my abilities and my wings. I don’t think like they do. I don’t feel like they do. They don’t feel at all, and I feel too much. You said that I always bring you back. You’re right, I do. If you asked me to leave right now, I would. But I would still bring you back if you were lost. I lied to you when I told you that I come to you because I feel it when you need me. Sometimes I come to you because I need you, and I don’t understand what that means. You wanted me to feel something when you kissed me, and I did. I felt something more, something that I can’t explain when we spent the night together. There is no going back for me, but I knew that before I let it happen. I can’t go back because I’m not one of them anymore. I don’t know where I fit, Dean. The only time that anything makes sense is when I am in the same room with you.”

“Why me? What have I done to deserve that?”

“You traded your life for Sam’s. You sacrifice for him, for me. I’ve seen it, I’ve seen it so many times and you always tell yourself that for some reason we are more deserving of life than you are. I’m an angel, Dean. You have stepped in front of me, knowing that I wasn’t truly in danger, but you did it anyway. Do you know how many times I have heard you ask where I am? Say that you wouldn’t leave without me? Tell me that you need me?”

“I meant it. Every single time I said those things, I meant it,” Dean said quietly.

“And that’s what you’ve done to deserve it.”

Dean pulled Cas into his arms, pressing his lips against his temple. “What was your last dream about?” Cas murmured, wrapping his arms around Dean’s body.

“That I walked away,” Dean sighed. “I always walk away.” 

\-------------------------

He snuck quietly into his room to grab his wallet without waking Sam and ignored the look he got from the desk clerk when he woke him from his nap by ringing the bell. He unlocked the door with Cas’s shaking hand clasped in his. He dropped the key on the table before running his fingers up the side of Cas’s face, kissing him gently, pulling away to press their foreheads together. “I’m broken, Cas,” he whispered. “I am so broken that I don’t even know where all of the pieces are, that’s why I need you. When you touch me, the cracks start to fill in. I will never be whole, but I want to get out of bed in the morning and care about whether or not I live or die.” Cas pressed their lips together, tears building in the corners of his eyes. He wanted so much more for Dean. They stripped slowly and crawled under the sheets. Dean treated Cas’s body almost reverently, memorizing every inch with his hands and his mouth. He smiled when he gently pulled a nipple between his teeth and heard a gasp, when he felt the low moan as he slid his lips across the subtle ridges of muscle on Cas’s stomach and along his hips. Cas’s nervous hands came alive as they moved across Dean’s body, his fingers digging into the knotted muscles that ran along his shoulders and back. They kissed and touched, Dean feeling as whole as he could ever remember, Cas feeling like he finally belonged somewhere. Dean needed more, Cas just knew. He felt him blindly reach towards the floor and work to get something out of his pants pocket while his mouth still moved across Cas’s body. Cas looked nervously at the small bottle Dean placed on the nightstand. “I told you that there are some decisions that I need you to make on your own,” Dean whispered. “This isn’t just about me, we both need to want the same things.” Cas knew that it would hurt, but he knew that it would bring them together in a way that nothing else could. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Cas, I need to know that you’re sure. I don’t want you to ever be afraid of my touch.” Cas silently reached for the bottle and handed it to Dean, letting Dean slide pillows under his hips while he closed his eyes. His legs spread when he felt Dean’s slick fingers against him, rubbing and pressing. He gasped when the first one began to move in and out. Dean’s mouth covered his when he felt the second one. The tears sprang to his eyes, but Dean was touching, searching. His body arched slightly and a moan escaped against Dean’s lips when a finger grazed something inside of him that made him tremble. He barely noticed the loss of body heat when Dean sat back up and started stroking his shaft, slipping in a third finger. Cas was lost in a daze of pleasure and pain. Dean’s finger stroking inside of him, his work calloused hand suddenly turned soft as it ran up and down the length of his cock. This was nothing like the night that they spent in Dean’s bed. In one quick movement, Dean pulled his fingers our and buried himself deep, holding Cas’s hips still. “We’ll wait until you’re ready,” he whispered. Those same rough hands ran up his sides, across his chest, and rested on his stomach before wrapping around his cock again, softly rubbing and squeezing. Cas barely noticed that he’d started to rock, that Dean was angling his body until his breath caught and his body again trembled. Dean’s silky skin dragged across the smooth spot inside of him and he spread his legs wider. “That’s it,” Dean whispered, pressing their chests together, trapping him between their sweat slicked bodies. Cas was almost delirious, caught in a haze of pain mixed with pleasure. The smell of Dean’s musky skin and something almost primal in the air was intoxicating. Those soft full lips tracing along his shoulder and neck, finally holding his in a deep kiss. His hands worked down Dean’s back, fingers gripping and digging until he ran them across Dean’s ass, the muscles contracting and relaxing against his palms with every thrust. “Oh god,” Dean murmured, giving more of himself to Cas with every movement. They were panting, letting out low guttural sounds, throbbing together. Cas’s head tilted back and his jaw went slack, caught somewhere between a wince and a smile when he felt the release and cried out Dean’s name. Their bodies met, Cas’s hands squeezing and groping when Dean slid his arms beneath him, grasping his shoulders and thrusting one last time, coming hard inside of him. Cas ran his hands slowly up Dean’s back and wrapped them around him, pulling him close to meld their sweaty bodies together. “I need you, Cas. I told you that I need you,” Dean whispered, kissing Cas softly before burying his face in Cas’s neck. Neither could describe how they felt. Satisfied was not enough. They were both healing, they both knew where they belonged.

\-------------------------

“Is this the part where we shower?”

Dean was on his elbows, still settled between Cas’s legs, running a thumb across Cas’s cheekbone. He ducked his head and smiled at the naive question. “Yes, this is the part where we shower.”

“I like that part,” Cas sighed, smiling slowly.

“I like all of it,” Dean grinned, his green eyes shining.

“So do I, but it’s not your vessel that’s going to hurt.”

“Oh, it will. It’ll just be different. You are amazing,” Dean bent down for a kiss before rolling onto his back and climbing off the bed, reaching for Cas’s hand.

\-------------------------

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Dean whispered, wrapping his arms around Cas under the hot water.

“We both knew that it would hurt, but I needed to feel you.”

“You do everything I ask of you.”

“You didn’t ask anything of me, Dean. You let me feel things that I didn’t know I could feel.”

Dean pulled their bodies closer, he was choked up and didn’t trust himself to say anything. He knew that he didn’t have to.

\-------------------------

“I’ll wake you up before dawn.” Cas could sense that Dean wasn’t ready to go back to that room and crawl under the blanket alone, listening to Sam mumble in his sleep.

Dean searched Cas’s face, not understanding how he didn’t feel it when their bond was severed. He ran his hand up Cas’s cheek and kissed him gently before climbing into bed and reaching for him. 

Cas listened to Dean’s heartbeat and soft snore until he saw the sun start to gently rise through the cheap curtains.

\-------------------------

He'd only been in bed for about 20 minutes, the blanket haphazardly thrown across his fully dressed body when he felt Sam start to stir. He hoped that he didn’t smell like sex, like cheap motel soap, like Cas’s skin. His dreams told him that Sam knew, that he’d always known, but he didn’t want to make his brother a part of this. It was his, and it was Cas’s, and right now it needed to stay that way. He couldn’t describe the things that he felt when Cas touched him, he didn’t want to have to try. He let his brother shake him to wake him up and acted tired and disoriented, counting on Sam’s own early morning clouded head to accept the performance. He seemed to as they packed their bags quietly and walked slowly to the car to throw them in the backseat and drive home.

\-------------------------

“Any strange deaths?” Dean asked, grabbing part of the newspaper off of the table before sitting down.

“Usually.”

“Don’t be a dick, Sam. You know what I mean.”

Sam didn’t even bother to look over the top of his computer. “Are we talking about demons or a case?”

“Both? Either? Take your pick.”

“I haven’t exactly made demon watch a priority, and since when are you so eager to work? I thought that we were going to take a little down time now that things are quiet.”

“We have taken down time. Witch, vengeful spirit, vampires, it’s not like those were complicated. I’m bored, Sam.”

“I thought you were watching Game of Thrones.”

“I was. I forgot to pause it when I went to take a piss. When I got back in my room like six people had died. Kind of ruined it for me.”

“And I’m guessing that there is absolutely nothing on your car that needs to be fixed?”

“I wish.”

Sam finally looked up, “Why in the hell do I feel like I’m running a daycare? There has got to be something for you to do.”

“Is this your way of telling me that we don’t have any cases and the demon situation seems okay?”

“Dean…”

“Fine, I’ll be in my room watching Breaking Bad again. But you’re going to pull yourself away from that fucking computer later and we’re going to actually leave this bunker and get something to eat.”

“Whatever,” Sam called. Down time was definitely not as relaxing as he’d hoped it would be.

\-------------------------

Sam smiled at the waitress when she set the plate in front of him. He shook his head when he saw that she was trying to get Dean’s attention, but was being ignored. Most men would love the amount of attention that Dean got, and there were many nights when Dean grinned and told Sam not to wait up. But at times, he seemed either annoyed or completely oblivious to it. Today he was oblivious.

“So, I checked the demon thing and no changes. Whatever is going on has been there for awhile, so I’m going to say that it’s isolated. Obviously shit went down, but chances are, we’ll never hear about it.”

“Okay,” Dean said with his mouth full. “So demon watch is over and no strange deaths. I still have a couple of seasons of Breaking Bad left. I’m getting to the good part, you know when the shit starts to go down with Gus.”

“Good to know. Anyway, I was hoping to head over to the University in Topeka. They have some great volumes on mythical sea creatures.”

“Fascinating, Sam. Truly fascinating.”

“Okay, you’re an asshole. My point is, do you want to go with me?”

“To hang out at a library? I mean the whole co-ed thing might be kind of interesting…”

“I mean in general. We live in a bunker miles away from anything. Maybe you could find some way to entertain yourself in an actual city.”

“Don’t treat me like a child.”

“Don’t act like one.”

“So we’ll leave in the morning?”

“Sounds good.”

\-------------------------

Dean talked Sam into going to a movie, and Sam hated admitting that he actually enjoyed Dean’s choice. It was late by the time they got home and Sam didn’t bother to say anything when he walked down the hall and into his room. 

\-------------------------

“Do you wait until I’m sitting out here alone to sneak around around in the shadows,” Dean smiled.

“Do you sit out here alone so that I’ll show up and sneak around in the shadows?”

“Maybe. So, are you going to stay in those shadows all night? Or do I have to use my powers of persuasion and charm to get your ass over here?”

“No, just your smile,” Cas said softly, stepping out of the shadow. “You look happy.”

“And I don’t even have a glass of liquor in my hand. Come here.” Dean swung his feet off of the table and turned his chair, spreading his legs so that Cas could stand between them. “Why didn’t I see any of this before?” he asked quietly, running his hands up Cas’s chest to push his coats from his shoulders. Cas shrugged them off and worked his tie free, Dean’s hands moving under his shirt. Cas heard the low moan when the last button opened and Dean pressed his lips against his bare skin. “God, you make me feel so…” Dean murmured, kissing and sucking, Cas trailing his fingers through his hair and down his neck. A groan escaped his lips when Dean ran his palm up his hard cock through his pants. He squeezed Dean’s shoulders and closed his eyes when Dean fumbled with his belt buckle, unbuttoned, and unzipped, freeing his cock. “Should we be doing this in here?” Cas murmured. “We’re fine, we won’t be interrupted. He’s a heavy sleeper,” Dean whispered, pushing Cas gently backwards and dropping to his knees. Cas’s breath caught when Dean started to slowly stroke, he gasped when he felt Dean’s tongue slide across the head of his cock, swirling around before taking it into his mouth and gently sucking. The groan was building in his stomach when Dean’s mouth slowly moved back and forth, his tongue sliding along the silky skin of his shaft as he took more of Cas with each forward dip of his head. The groan escaped his lips and his hand pressed the back of Dean’s head when the throbbing started. His legs were growing weak, his stomach was tense, he could feel it. “Dean…” he whispered. He was desperate for release when Dean moaned around his cock and slid his head forward, taking Cas down his throat when he cried out and came, shaking almost uncontrollably. His hands gripping Dean’s shoulders were the only thing keeping him standing while Dean softly licked and sucked until he was too sensitive to be touched. Dean gently tucked him into his pants and sat back on the chair, pulling Cas on top of him. Cas was panting and trembling when Dean wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, kissing him softly. “What about you?” Cas whispered. “This isn’t always about me, Cas. I needed to touch you, taste you. Your skin, your voice, it all makes me feel things. Sometimes I look into your eyes and I see what you want from me. You want so little,” Dean voice caught when he reached up and caressed Cas’s cheek with his thumb. He leaned in and they shared a slow kiss, building to a passion that let them know they wouldn’t be spending the night apart.

\-------------------------

Sam was only half awake, wandering up the hallway towards the kitchen for a drink when he heard the voices. He didn’t intend to eavesdrop, he heard the softness when his brother spoke and silently looked into the large room, staying in the dark shadows beyond the doorway. He listened to the exchange between Cas and Dean. He watched Dean move his feet off of the table and saw how gentle he was when he touched Cas. When he saw Dean push Cas’s shirt open and and pull his body to his lips, he realized this wasn’t the first time it had happened. He silently turned around and went back to his room, his thirst forgotten. 

He was starting to drift off again when he vaguely heard Cas’s muffled cry, eventually followed by the sound of Dean’s bedroom door closing.

\-------------------------

“A monster has been created,” Dean smiled against Cas’s mouth, giving himself over to the deep kissing and Cas’s hands moving across his body. Cas was hesitant when his slid his palm down the length of Dean’s rigid cock through his boxers, but Dean’s low moan was encouraging and he slid his fingers under the waistband, wrapping them around the shaft, slowly stroking. “Wait,” Dean whispered. “This is a mess that I know how to avoid.” Cas watched him lay tissues on his stomach and slide his boxers down his thighs before wrapping his hand around Cas’s and relaxed while they stroked together. He pulled his hand away and slowly rocked his hips, Cas still squeezing gently and running his hand up and down his cock. He stroked faster, feeling his own body react. He heard Dean’s breaths becoming heavy as he grew harder and started to throb. He let out a guttural groan and Cas watched the warm sticky come spurt and drip onto the tissues as he continued to softly touch Dean until he went limp. Dean was still panting when he reached for the tissues, wiped himself and Cas’s hand off, balled them up and threw them in the garbage. “No shower?” Cas whispered when Dean pulled his boxers up and wrapped his arms around him. “We can if you want,” Dean mumbled. Cas laid his head on Dean’s chest and let Dean pull him close. “Another time,” he smiled, tilting his head for a kiss before Dean fell asleep.

\-------------------------

The bed was still warm when Dean rolled over. Cas had stayed all night, but still left before Dean woke up. Dean buried his face in the pillow remembering how Cas’s skin smelled, how his hands felt. His eyes opened slowly and he smiled when again his saw his clothes folded neatly. He sat on the edge of the bed and stretched. He could feel that his stomach was still a little sticky when he grabbed clean clothes and wandered down the hallway to take a shower.

\-------------------------

Sam watched his brother as they pulled onto the highway, headed for the University. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t really want to know. He just watched him out of the corner of his eye. He’d seen it for years. He’d been that third man who would see Cas’s hand raise slightly when Dean’s back turned. He would see the defeated look on Cas’s face when he realized that Dean had no idea how he felt. The confusion when he didn’t understand what it was he felt when he looked at Dean. Sam had figured out long before Dean that with every touch, every word, Cas was trying to heal him. He never expected his brother to see it, but apparently he had. He’d finally seen something in Cas. Dean would never settle down and live in a house surrounded by a white picket fence, he wasn’t made that way, he wouldn’t know how. Maybe Cas was the only one who could give him what he deserved. 

Dean acted like himself, his sarcasm made it difficult for Sam to tell what was there, what was underlying. But, he knew his brother well enough to know that something had changed. He wasn’t sitting in the driver’s seat with a mysterious smile, but there was something in his posture, even his mannerisms that was almost calm.

\-------------------------

The library was closed for the day, and there weren’t enough co-eds wandering through the quad to keep either Winchester interested. 

\-------------------------

“Dude, sometimes I seriously feel like we’re dating. I spend more time going to dinner and movies with you than anyone else.”

“Yeah,” Sam laughed. “But I don’t put out. And since when did you bother taking a woman on an actual date.”

“It’s happened.”

“When?”

“I don’t remember, but why bother when all it takes is a couple of drinks?” Dean grinned.

“You are seriously such a pig.”

“I get that a lot. Now are we going to find a movie?”

“I saw that there’s a showing at an art gallery a few blocks away,” Sam smiled.

“No.”

“I think that the Museum of Natural History is open for another hour or two.”

“No.”

“How about a painting class that serves wine. I’m guessing it will be full of bored housewives.”

“No. Do you purposely try to make me out to look like an uncultured pig or something?”

“No, you do that yourself. I think the term you used was shallow ape. Let’s go find a movie.”

“You are such a dick.”

\-------------------------

Sam was already asleep, Dean was propped up in bed with the remote in his hand and a drink resting on his stomach. He wasn’t afraid of the dreams. They had changed, each one so different from the last. Some took place in locations and at times that he could remember, most didn’t. In some, he was himself. In some, he assumed that he was Cas. In others, he figured that he was Sam. They started out as a revisitation of his life, and had become vague and somewhat convoluted. So often he woke up feeling cracked, raw and broken. The realization that Cas had always been there, but that he’d refused to see it still stung. All he had to offer Cas was his body and his words, but it didn’t feel like it was enough. 

\-------------------------

_He could feel it dripping along his hairline. It wasn’t blood, it was the sweat created when he saw fear in those blue eyes. He’d been an animal meant for a cage, just biding his time until it became a secret too big to hold. Those eyes, that beautiful face, they couldn’t bear his countenance any longer. He was too broken, he was to be feared. It was his hand that reached out as the tan trenchcoat drifted away._

_“You said that you did it, you did it all for me.”_

_“You told me that you always come when I call.”_

_“You’ve done everything that I’ve ever asked of you.”_

_His voice was hoarse, his throat had become sandpaper. Blue, he just needed to see blue. The sky, the ocean, anything._

_“I need you,” he moaned as everything inside of him crumbled._

\-------------------------

He dropped Sam off at the University and started wandering around town. The voices and squealing at the shopping mall were almost reminiscent of Hell. His visit there didn’t last long. He considered a movie, but he was burnt out on $12 movies and $40 for snacks. In true Dean Winchester fashion, he ended up at a dive bar. It was nearly empty and he was able to get a stool close enough to see the game playing on the small TV in the corner. He didn’t know who was playing, he didn’t care who was playing. He had cold beer, football, and hours until Sam called. 

As lunchtime peaked, the place started filling in. He felt bodies take their place on the stools around him and start to fill booths and tables, but he didn’t pay attention. He was drinking slowly, knowing that he had to drive, and considering calling for Cas. Sam would be busy all day and they could be alone, but he didn’t want to be that needy. He could find somebody here to take back to his motel room, but he had no interest. He spun his near empty bottle distractedly on the bar and waited for the bartender to set down another.

\-------------------------

“Dean Winchester?”

Dean turned his head, “Uh who’s asking?”

“Oh, sorry. My name’s Dave. We’re in the same line of work. I’ve seen you and your brother around. I know your reputation. It’s almost like meeting a celebrity. Let me buy this round.”

Dean just looked at the young guy and shook his head slowly. It wasn’t his cocky side showing when he accepted the offer. He was the best, he knew that he was the best, but it wasn’t always something that he wanted to be known for. He knew how to kill shit, he was good at it, there wasn’t a lot of glory in that.

He accepted the beer and let the guy chat him up. He pulled back into distant asshole mode, a place that he knew well. He only half listened and nodded a lot, checking his phone to see how much longer he had until he needed to pick Sam up. 

He finally slid off of the stool and gave the kid his usual “Nice to meet you,” smile before he turned to leave. He felt a hand gently grasp his shoulder and something press against his lower back. “We’re going to walk out together like old friends, you got it?” the hot fetid breath whispered in his ear. 

“Listen buddy, if I fucked your wife, I’m sorry.” 

He shoved Dean from behind, “just walk.”

\-------------------------

Dean was carrying, he was always carrying, but this guy obviously knew enough to pat him down once they got outside and pull the handgun from his waistband. He forced Dean into the passenger seat of a generic car and got in. Dean knew that he probably couldn’t drive and hold the gun on him, he was already half way through his get away plan when he saw the woman sit up in the backseat and press a muzzle against his head.

\-------------------------

“And here I expected some creepy abandoned shit. This actually seems like a nice place. I can’t imagine you wanting Winchester brain splattered all over these walls.” Sam had told him on more than one occasion that he needed to learn when to shut the fuck up.

He was shoved down a flight of stairs. “Ah, an unfinished basement. That’s more like it. It just kind of screams homicidal maniac down here, no pun intended. So I’m going to go with the whole fan thing was a lie. You know that’s kind of a blow to the ego.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“If you’re asking me to shut the fuck up, then you must not know me very well. Now, we’ve established that you aren’t a fan. You still never did tell me if I fucked your wife, which is entirely possible.”

He felt the fist connect with his jaw, “Okay, apparently I must have done something to really piss you off.”

“You killed my brother.”

“Dude, you have got to be more specific. I kill a lot of things. Werewolf? Shapeshifter? Should I keep going or are you going to give me a little to work with here?” That’s when he saw the teeth. “Ah, vampire. Yeah, I’ve killed a lot of those. I’d ask you who your brother is, but the truth is I really don’t give a fuck. So I’m guessing that you are either going to kill me, or hold me until you can get my brother here and kill us both.”

“You don’t seem bothered by the idea.”

“Here’s the thing,” Dean smirked. “I always said that I’d die young and bloody. I actually have, but it never seems to stick. I figure that one of these days my luck will run out.”

He felt the fist again, and that’s when the brawl started. He couldn’t keep track, but there seemed to be at least three, possibly four on him. He was avoiding their teeth, ducking and kicking, trying to find anything that he could use to fight back. He had to behead the bastards, he knew that, but even a piece of 2x4 would help him gain the upper hand. 

He was dizzy and barely standing. Dean Winchester was a hell of a fighter, but he was outnumbered and even he couldn’t take a physical onslaught without a weapon. He was vaguely aware of fists and feet, grunting and growling. He had hit the ground, and the kid from the bar was holding his face. Dean was ready for the fangs in his neck. If it was his time, it was his time.

“If there’s one thing I know about hunters is that they’d rather die than become one of the monsters that they hunt. Consider this your lucky day, Dean. Unless your brother can bring himself to swing a machete at you, you aren’t going to die young and bloody. Follow the rules and you’ll live forever.”

Dean wrapped his hand around the vampire’s wrist and turned his head. His biggest fear had always been to become one of them. He watched the vampire slit open his arm and felt the pressure on his face. He groaned and twisted, holding his lips shut. The warm fluid was dripping, running down his cheeks and across his mouth. He wrapped his lips around his teeth and bit down. He could taste his own blood in his mouth. He couldn’t stop it when the arm was pressed against his mouth and a boot connected with the side of his head. He was unconscious and his jaw went slack.

He was one of them.

\-------------------------

“Dean, I’m still working,” Sam said with an annoyed tone. 

“This isn’t Dean, it’s Cas. Sam, I need your help.”

Sam got up from the library table, knowing that it was rude to leave the books sitting out. He grabbed his laptop and started walking towards the door. Cas had Dean’s phone and needed help.

“What in the hell is going on, Cas?” 

“I’m not sure how it happened, but Dean was attacked.”

“Wait, what? Dean was attacked by who?”

“Vampires. I didn’t get here in time to stop it. They are no longer a threat, but I can’t get Dean to wake up. And Sam…”

“Yeah,” Sam was trying not to panic.

“They turned him. I watched it happen.”

Sam froze, he knew that’s what Dean feared the most. He’d promised his brother that if it ever happened, he would kill him. “Wait, so you got there and watched them turn him? Where in the hell are you?”

“I’m not sure. In a neighborhood somewhere. Do you want me to come find you?”

“No, no stay with him, I’ll try to check the GPS on his phone. Are they dead? The vampires, are they all dead?”

“I have my angel blade. I’m not sure, but I think that I was able to dispatch most of them.”

“The one that turned him?”

“He’s alive.”

“Okay,” Sam said, trying to stay calm. “I hate to say this, but if Dean comes to, you’re going to have to knock him out. We can’t have him conscious right now. I need to make a quick pit stop and then I’ll be there. Remember, vampire stays alive, Dean stays unconscious, and you don’t move.”

\-------------------------

Sam was able to track Dean’s phone and find a cab that would take him where he needed to go.

\-------------------------

Sam raced down the stairs and saw the mess. “Which one?” he asked Cas, looking around the basement. Cas pointed at a prone body with a deep gash on its arm. Sam knelt down and reached in his bag. “It still surprises me that they are willing to sell these to people. All you have to do is talk about your type 2 diabetes and they hand them over.” He pulled a cap off of the syringe with his teeth and drew blood from the vampire’s neck. He filled three more syringes before capping them and rolling them up gently in a piece of fabric ripped from the vampire’s shirt. He held his hand out and Cas pressed his angel blade against his palm, he knew that Sam needed to kill the monster who had turned his brother. Sam drove the blade through it’s body and stepped back. “I have absolutely no fucking idea where Dean left the Impala. Can you find it?”

“Yes, I suppose I can.”

“No supposing, Cas. I need you to find the fucking car,” Sam was digging through Dean’s pockets. “Take these, and come back here. We have got to get him back to the bunker ASAP.”

“Can you save him?”

“It’s either that, or I kill him.”

\-------------------------

Sam looked around the quiet neighborhood before he wrapped Dean’s arm around his shoulder and led him to the car. He laid him in the backseat and lifted the corner of his lip. He could see the teeth starting to protrude already. He was unconscious but he could still feel Sam and Cas’s hearts beat and he was going to wake up hungry. Cas crawled in the back with Dean and Sam backed out of the driveway. “If he starts to come to, find a way to stop it,” he called over his shoulder while he checked the GPS for the fastest way to get back to the bunker. They were working on borrowed time.

\-------------------------

_His head was pounding, his body ached, and he couldn’t open his eyes. But, he could feel the blue. It surrounded him. It gently touched his face, aware that he was an animal. The cage was waiting for him, the door hanging open, a key already in the heavy padlock. The image was clear, even if he couldn’t see it. He started to cry when the blue touched him, tried to hold him._

_“I need you…”_

_“I need you…”_

_“I need you…”_

_It wasn’t his voice that echoed the rhythmic hum. The hum that slowly turned into a subtle beating, the sound of something rushing just behind the beating that wouldn’t stop. He tried to open his eyes, he tried to speak, but everything went black._

\-------------------------

“So this will work?” Cas was nervous. Actually, Cas was terrified.

“It has before. It isn’t a quick fix, Cas. It gets ugly. It’s like a drug detox. He’s going to be fucked up for a few days. It’s not going to be easy to watch. He’ll be in and out of consciousness, sick, hot and cold. And until it’s all over, he’s still going to be dangerous. Right now, Dean is a vampire and we can’t forget that.”

“I’m an angel, Sam.”

“Right, with a human vessel. Beating heart, blood, all of the things that vampires are looking for. If you want to be the same Cas when he gets through this, you need to protect yourself. I’m not even going to bother to try and talk you into leaving because I know that you won’t. Just be careful.”

They needed Dean to wake up in order for Sam to give him the cure. They stared at him, breathing deeply, until they saw him start moving around. They didn’t give him the chance to sit up or say a word before Sam gave it to him and stepped back.

“What in the fuck was that, Sam?” he asked hoarsely.

“Something happened, Dean.”

“Yeah, I get that. I was in a basement getting my ass kicked and now I’m here.”

“What’s the last thing that you remember,” Cas questioned quietly.

“That fucker was holding my face and...oh god…”

“That was the cure, Dean. You’re going to feel like shit, but we’re going to get you through this.” Sam tried to keep his voice from shaking. He tried to sound reassuring.

“How in the hell did you find me?” Dean’s head was pounding and his body was already starting to shake.

“You needed me,” Cas said quietly. “I didn’t get there in time to stop him. I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Cas called me and I tracked your phone. We got the blood, took care of the nest, and brought you home. It’s going to be a rough few days, but you’ll be okay.”

Dean’s skin was starting to hurt, he could hear both of their hearts pounding and pressure against his gums. “You guys need to go,” he groaned. “Please.”

Sam nodded and let Cas move past him before he closed the door. “I told you, right now he’s dangerous. We need to leave him alone, and I have to lock him in. We don’t have a choice.”

Cas just nodded and stared at the floor.

\-------------------------

“I can feel your heart beating, I can smell your blood. I know that you’re here, Cas. Invisible or not, you still have a human vessel and it is taking every ounce of self control that I have not to climb off of this bed and find you. 

“You need me.”

Dean could feel the shift in his gums. “You do everything that I ask of you, Cas. I’m asking you, I am begging you to leave. Right now all you are is a heartbeat to me. I need you to go.”

\-------------------------

Cas sat on the cold concrete in the hallway next to Dean’s bedroom door. He could feel the nightmares, the thrashing body, the raw skin. Dozens of times he started to go in there, but each time he stopped. It wasn’t until he felt the spasms and pain in his stomach that he stood up and went against Dean’s wishes.

\-------------------------

He held the garbage can and rubbed Dean’s back while he retched and dry heaved. He handed him a glass of water to swish around his mouth and spit out. He finally watched Dean lay back, his sweaty body against sweaty sheets. 

“Do you need me to leave?”

“I can barely hear you anymore. I don’t feel like I need to feed. I don’t even think that my body could handle it. How long has it been?”

“I don’t know almost 48 hours I’m guessing.”

“Come here,” Dean said softly, holding out a shaking sweat slicked arm. Cas shrugged off his coats and shoes, dropped his tie on top of the pile, and climbed into the bed next to Dean. “You should be afraid of me. I’m a fucking monster.”

“I’m afraid for you. A monster wouldn’t tell me to leave because he didn’t trust himself. A monster would have found me and fed.”

“I’m fucking scared, Cas,” Dean whispered.

Cas pulled Dean to him, “I know you are, but Sam got to you in time. You’ll be fine.”

“Everything hurts, I’m crawling out of my skin, I want to cry and scream. I feel like I should ask you to leave, but I need you. Don’t leave…” Dean cried, sweating and shivering uncontrollably. He cried and murmured, holding Cas in an iron grip.

He finally fell asleep, exhausted but calm. Cas pulled the blanket over his trembling body and wrapped his arms around him. All they could do is wait.

\-------------------------

_Dean’s head was spinning and he was exhausted. He must have been treading for hours, his legs and arms in continuous motion. It was a fight against the thick sticky fluid that smelled of life and copper. The hunger was unbearable. If he could just get to the edge, find something to wrap his arms around, find a foot hold…_

\-------------------------

Dean rolled over and all he saw was blue. He didn’t know why the blue was so important, but he needed it to be at peace. He kissed Cas hard, taking him by surprise. There was even more surprise when Cas kissed him back. Dean knelt between his legs, he had been stripped to his boxers, but Cas was fully dressed. Without a word, he quickly unbuttoned Cas’s shirt and reached for his belt, letting Cas do the rest. With their clothes on the floor and the door closed behind them, Dean continued to kneel, running his hands up and down Cas’s body, watching his heaving chest. He reached for a hand and pulled it to his mouth, kissing the knuckles before turning it and touching his nose against the inside of Cas’s wrist. His eyes closed slowly as he took a deep breath and held his lips against the soft skin, feeling the rhythmic pulse. He trailed his fingers down the pale flesh of Cas’s arm before setting it on the mattress and leaned forward, holding himself up on his hands. As long as he could see the blue, he knew that he could survive. His lips crashed against Cas’s again, dropping him to his elbows. Their tongues slid together desperately. Cas moaned with need, Dean was panting with hunger, it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He needed...something. His full lips slid along Cas’s cheek and down his neck, stopping where his jawbone curved. “I can smell you,” he whispered. “Not your skin, you.” Cas trembled when Dean touched him, feeling his pulse against Dean’s lips. Dean was dizzy, his own heart was pounding. He reached to hold Cas’s hands above his head, his body pressing him to the mattress, his mouth starting to move against Cas’s sensitive skin. He could hear it, he could smell it, he knew how sweet it would taste. “Is this what you need?” Cas whispered. “I can’t stop you, I won’t try.” Dean stopped kissing and sucking, his teeth grazing Cas’s skin. “I don’t know what I need,” he cried softly, leaning his forehead on Cas’s shoulder, releasing his hands. He could hear Cas’s heart, he could hear his own heart, the dizzying rush felt like it would never stop. Cas’s body shifted and Dean looked up, begging those blue eyes to help him. He was frozen in place when Cas stroked him, dripping lube on his cock before laying back on the sweat soaked sheets and spreading his legs. Dean buried himself deep and closed his eyes. He was tense, he was on the precipice of something, but he didn’t know what. He couldn’t make love to Cas, not like this. “Don’t worry about me, Dean,” Cas said quietly. “Get it out of your system. If this is what it takes, it’s what I want.” Dean could feel that Cas had grown hard between them and he started to rock. There was nothing gentle about this, their mouths were rough, their fingers digging into flesh, firm enough to leave bruises. Dean’s thrusts were hard and they were deep. He grunted as their bodies came together. He wasn’t building, he didn’t think that he could come, but he couldn’t smell Cas anymore, he could only feel him. His thighs tense against Dean’s hips, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders, his body arching and rocking. The words were spilling out of Dean’s mouth like a mantra, “I need you, I need you.” He was finding something to wrap his arms around, a foot hold. He couldn’t feel the tears as they dripped off his chin. The cry of his name echoed and he was overwhelmed by the smell of Cas’s body and raw sex that permeated the air. It was happening, he felt it in his stomach, thrusting while Cas whimpered words of encouragement. He buried himself and came hard, hard enough that it bordered on pain. He was sobbing when he felt Cas’s arms, and he let their bodies meld. He was still whispering, “I need you” while Cas held him close.

\-------------------------

Sam was walking down the hallway, ready to check on Dean, when he stopped. He heard Cas tell Dean that he wouldn’t stop him, and his heart skipped. If Dean fed, then he would have to kill him. He dropped his head when the reality set in. He was going to lose both Cas and his brother. He heard the bed moving, he heard Dean telling Cas that he needed him, and he realized what Cas had done. He let go of the doorknob and walked away. Cas would always try to heal Dean.

\-------------------------

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, his voice shaking while his body trembled in Cas’s arms.

“I can’t imagine how you feel, but I’m not going anywhere until we get through it. You can’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” Cas kissed him softly.

“But I thought about it. I felt you, I smelled you, and I wanted to. My mouth, my teeth…”

“Didn’t break the skin.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“When we had sex?”

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly, afraid and resigned.

“You needed something from me, Dean, that’s all I could think of to give you.”

“Thank you,” Dean whispered. He looked down at his sticky and sweaty body. “I’m all…”

Cas pressed his lips against Dean’s forehead and rolled off of the bed, wiping off his stomach and digging through the dresser for pajama pants. “You’re still weak, especially after that. I’ll help you in the shower and ask Sam if he’d be okay with changing the sheets. I’ll be right back.”

“Cas?”

“Yeah,” Cas turned in the doorway, turned those beautiful eyes on Dean.

“I can’t get through this alone.”

“You don’t have to.”

\-------------------------

Cas found Sam at his laptop looking up vampire lore.

“Aren’t we a couple of days late on that?” he asked, sitting down across from him.

“Yeah well, just checking all of our bases. I’ve seen the cure work, but there’s never a 100% guarantee. I almost checked on him a little while ago, Cas. Now I’m not going to ask, because I have a general idea of what happened, but have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

“No, why?”

“You look like you were in a fight, and got the worst end of it. That mark on your neck, that thing is pretty fucking dark and the fact that there are scrapes across it scares the shit out of me.”

“He didn’t break the skin,” Cas said quietly.

“He could have.”

“He didn’t. He stopped himself.”

“He stopped himself? Or you stopped him?”

“He stopped himself, what happened after that is between he and I.”

“Understood. But, we’re not out of the woods yet, I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, but he needs me. I’m going to take him to shower, he finally feels like getting out of bed. Do you mind changing his sheets? There’s nothing on them, I mean, they’re not….I can do it when we’re done I just thought…”

“No, that’s no problem. He’s been sweating like crazy.”

Cas nodded and stood up. He got to the doorway when he heard Sam’s voice.

“Uh...thanks Cas, for everything.”

Cas turned and smiled slightly, “I think it’s time for the Winchesters to stop either apologizing or thanking me. You know that being here isn’t a choice for me.”

\-------------------------

Dean cried again when they stripped down and he saw Cas’s body, when he saw Cas’s neck. The dark bruise, the marks left by his teeth. He was driven by a single emotion, fear. 

\-------------------------

Cas’s soapy hands were slow when they moved across his skin and through his hair. He was relaxed when he let Cas hold him under the warm water. He turned to kiss the swollen lips softly and gently. He wanted Cas to feel his hands and mouth, a body that wanted to make love to him and not just roll him on his back and use him. 

\-------------------------

They were shirtless and in pajama pants when they passed Sam in the hallway. He did a double take. Although he had seen Cas like that earlier, he was surprised to see it again. He’d always seen Cas in the suit and trenchcoat. And Dean, his body had marks and bruises as well. He didn’t want to know what had gone on in that room, but apparently it had been a mutual thing.

\-------------------------

Dean was stir crazy, but worn out. He crawled into a clean bed and let Cas hold him close. He was asleep before Cas even had the blanket pulled up over them.

\------------------------- 

“How long have I been out? My head is fucking killing me,” Dean groaned and tried to sit up.

“About 14 hours I think. Sam just woke up. He wanted me to ask you if you’re hungry.”

“I’m not awake enough to know. Will you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” Cas tried to smile. In just a few days Dean had grown so thin and pale it was making him nervous.

“Will you check my gums? I can’t really feel them anymore, but I need to know.”

Cas lifted Dean’s lip and could still see a small protrusion. “Still there, but barely. I think you’re past the worse of it.”

“Shit, I hope so. I need to get out of this fucking bed. Want to head to the kitchen? If the smell of food doesn’t make me sick, maybe there’s a chance I can eat.”

\-------------------------

Dean dropped into a kitchen chair and rested his forehead against his hands. “I really want to eat, and I’m really afraid of it coming back up.”

“Let me check you…”

“No Sam, we’re good. Cas checked. They’re still there. Ugh, my head is fucking pounding.”

“I’ll go grab you something for that.”

“Hopefully I can keep it down,” Dean mumbled.

Sam watched Cas leave. “You know that he hasn’t left your side since he found you in that basement. Even after you told us to leave the room, he sat in the hallway next to your door until he heard you start to get sick.”

“Sam, I almost…”

“I know, but you didn’t”

“How do you know?” Dean looked up at his brother with a squint, his eyes still sensitive to light.

“I saw the huge mark on his neck, he told me. The PG version. I almost walked in the room. I’m glad that I didn’t.”

“Yeah well, I’m not exactly proud of that either. You know what I don’t get is, why does he stay? I’m not complaining. Shit, I don’t know where I’d be if he hadn’t shown up, but why does he do it?”

“If he were laying in that bed right now going through something like this, would you just be chilling in the other room with a beer watching football?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“That’s why he stays. You are finally seeing what I’ve seen for years.”

“Maybe I am,” Dean groaned. “But I have no idea what to do with it.”

“Uh, live with it. Enjoy it. Be happy.”

“I don’t deserve it, I know that I don’t.”

“Well, then you can spend the rest of your life arguing with him about whether you deserve it or not. Here he comes with your pain meds. Do you want to try to eat? Soup or toast or eggs or something? That pain pill might tear your stomach up.”

“Yeah, eggs and toast. I’d kill for coffee.”

“That black sludge? I think you’ll have to wait a few days.”

\-------------------------

The food stayed down. The pain in his head, while still there, had lessened. His eyes were able to focus enough to watch TV. 

Cas was propped up in bed, leaning against the headboard with Dean between his legs. Dean’s skin was warm against his chest and he seemed to be getting some color back after eating something. They were watching a movie, Cas didn’t know what it was, he didn’t really care what it was. 

“Cas?”

“Yeah?” Cas murmured.

“When I woke up and I...when we...you know…”

“Yeah.”

“I was in the middle of a dream.”

“You’re still having bad dreams?” Cas wrapped his arms loosely around Dean’s chest.

“I don’t know if they’re bad, I don’t always know what in the hell they are. They started out normal. I mean as normal as dreams can be. The night my mom died, me and Sam as kids, my father. I had a dream about when Sam left for school, and when he was killed. I had one about trading my soul, going to Hell, and coming back. I dreamt about the first time I saw you. They were all just like re-runs, kind of. But then they got weird. Sometimes I would see things from my point of view, but sometimes I would be watching myself through somebody else’s eyes. I saw myself through your eyes. I know these are just dreams and I probably sound like I’m fucking crazy, but I don’t know. I have the dreams and I see things differently.”

“In what way?” Cas asked softly.

Dean took a deep breath and reached for Cas’s arms. “They way you looked at me. You’d start to reach for me when I turned away. You saw through my bullshit, and that scared the shit out of me. We’ve had our fights and we’ve had our differences, but you were always right behind me, and you just wanted me to see you. I looked at you, but you wanted me to really see you. All of the times that I was an asshole, when I acted annoyed, it didn’t really bother you because you know who I am. I’m broken, I know that, but in my dreams alcohol was just a bandaid, the women were first aid kits. Nothing could fix me, and I’d accepted that, until I finally did see you. Even when I’m not injured, you’ve always tried to fix me. I spent one night just hearing your voice, telling me that you rebelled for me, you did it all for me. You see inside of me. You do everything that I ask, you always come when I call. God, It took days for it to stop running through my head. It was on repeat and I would wait for Sam to talk just to drown it out. I chalked it all up to that profound bond somehow getting into my head, but then you told me that it had been severed.”

“That’s why you kissed me?”

“I needed to know if any of it was true. If you actually felt those things. In my dreams, you finally saw it. You were afraid of me, Cas. That was before any of this happened. You finally saw what I see when I look in the mirror and you knew that I was a monster.” Dean said softly. “In the last one, it was like I was treading water, but it was thick. I knew what it was and I knew that it was going to pull me under unless I could find something to hold on to. I could smell it, god it was so strong. I woke up, and the scent was still there. I could smell it on your wrist. I was dizzy when started kissing your neck. That smell, that pulse, I knew how sweet it was going to be and I was ready. But then you told me that you wouldn’t stop me. I couldn’t do it, not after I heard your voice. That’s when I found something to hold on to. I knew that you meant it, you wouldn’t stop me. You would have let me feed if that’s what I needed. You did let me feed, in your own way. I was confused and lost and angry. I was so close to becoming a real monster, and I knew it. You gave me a way out. Instead of your blood, you gave me your body.”

“I didn’t give you my body, Dean. I found a way for us to get through it. I was afraid. Yes, I would have let you feed, but I knew that Sam would have to kill you and it would be the end for us all. I just wanted to keep you alive. When you are inside of me, when I can feel you, that is when we are the most alive and that’s what you needed.”

“Why do you care so damn much, Cas?” Dean’s voice shook.

“Because you tell me that you need me. I know that isn’t an easy thing for you to say. Because you tell me that you won’t leave without me, and you never have. Because you knew that the only way to keep yourself from becoming a monster was to find something to hold on to, and you held onto me.”

“I rely on you too much.”

“That’s why I care. You trust me. You don’t trust anybody, but you trust me.”

Dean turned his body and wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling them both flat on the bed. He settled between Cas’s legs and kissed him gently. His calloused hands slid across warm supple skin. They dropped their clothes on the floor and lost themselves in a haze of slow passion. Cas’s body arched, their hips moved in an easy rhythm, sweat slicked flesh building tension on the velvet skin of their hard cocks trapped between them. Cas leaned his head back, exposing his soft throat, moaning softly when he felt Dean’s full lips glide across. Dean could only smell the heady musk of Cas’s skin. Cas’s fingers trailed lightly down Dean’s spine, causing a shiver, before stopping to press against his lower back. Their breaths were coming faster, more shallow as the tension built. Dean slid his arms under Cas’s back and gripped his shoulders, pushing their bodies together. Emotionally, physically, they needed the release and they cried out when they came together, the warmth spreading between them. Dean moved his body slowly, cupping Cas’s face, holding him in a long and lingering kiss. “You save me from myself, time after time. I don’t deserve it.” Cas looked at him with those blue eyes, the blue eyes that were his foothold. “I don’t know what any of it means, but what you saw in your dreams, most of it was real. I have wanted you to see me, I have reached for you, I will always try to save you. You deserve it Dean, and I will keep telling you that until you believe me.” They kissed and touched, whispering words meant only for each other until Dean finally rolled off of the bed and led Cas to the bathroom to shower. They crawled back in bed and Dean curled up against Cas, falling asleep with his head on his chest listening to his heart beat.

\-------------------------

The protrusions were gone. Dean was eating and gaining back his strength. He moved around the bunker, and didn’t tire as easily. He still climbed into bed in the middle of the day to hold Cas, to touch him, sometimes to make love to him. The first time Sam caught them in an embrace in the kitchen, he just shrugged. The first time he heard his brother say, “I love you” he was taken by surprise. His surprise didn’t last long. He knew where Dean belonged.

\-------------------------

“You going to be nervous about nests?”

“I have no idea, Sammy. I’m not in a huge hurry to go out and tangle with one. Going to Hell, easily the worst thing that ever happened to me. Well, other than the rescue mission,” he grinned at Cas. “But this? Easily the second worst thing that has ever happened to me. To be hot and then cold, your body and skin hurts, you’re sick and afraid. I will not go through that shit again.”

“I’m not rushing to check out any strange deaths. I know you’re feeling better, but you’re not 100% and I think you’ve found ways to entertain yourself and leave me the hell alone while I research.”

“I never did finish watching the last couple of seasons of Breaking Bad,” Dean smiled.

“I thought you’d watched that four or five times already,” Cas looked confused.

“And I’ll watch it four or five times again. It’s getting to the good part.”

“When all of the shit starts with Gus?”

Dean leaned over and kissed Cas, “And that is one of the many reasons why I love my angel.”


End file.
